


Run (back to my arms)

by acciotonystank



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Alcohol, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Bisexual Character, Bisexual Peter Parker, But kinda extreme, Character Death, Coming Out, Drunk Peter Parker, Female Peter Parker, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, IronDad and SpiderSon, Irondad, Mentions of Sex, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Rape/Non-con, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Precious Peter Parker, Protective Tony Stark, Sickfic, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-05
Updated: 2019-12-01
Packaged: 2020-02-26 13:18:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 10
Words: 40,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18717859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acciotonystank/pseuds/acciotonystank
Summary: A collection of irondad one-shots.Requests taken :)





	1. No More Monsters (I Can Breathe Again)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony Stark was a mechanic, he fixed things, that’s what he did. He was famously resourceful and good at solving problems. But how could he possibly even begin to fix this? 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: mentions of past rape/non-con. Nothing graphic. 
> 
> Disclaimer: a lot of the dialogue in the scene with Connor is from the comic Spider-Man and Power Pack

You couldn’t see the stars from New York, but as Peter swung through the streets of Manhattan, taking in the expanse of city lights that illuminated the city, he came to the conclusion that New York City had a galaxy of its own. The young superhero was just finishing up his patrol for the night and heading back to the tower before his curfew. When May had found out about his activities as Spider-man she immediately contacted Mr Stark and gave him a long spiel about how reckless and irresponsible it was to put Peter in danger like that. A long discussion later, the fierce woman had come to terms with Spider-Man on the condition that Peter communicated with both her and Mr Stark properly, actually _sought_ help when he needed it and didn’t stay out later than 11pm on school nights and midnight on weekends. 

It was currently 11.54pm and Peter knew he had to haul ass or face Mr Stark giving him a spiel about his safety and also his Scary Aunt™ who would tear Mr Stark a new one if he didn’t keep her boy safe. He was cutting it fine, but he knew he would make it. 

That was, until he felt the familiar pressing anxiety and heard muffled whimpering coming from the apartment building he was passing. He immediately diverted and landed on the side of the building, and crept towards the window the sound was coming from. 

“Leave me alone, please!” a young voice pleaded. “I don’t want to do anything like _that_!” 

Peter felt his stomach twist, and moved faster. 

“Listen, Connor… What happened here tonight is our little _secret_. And you better not tell or I may have to hurt you or get you into big trouble.” 

_Our little secret._

The phrase sent shivers down Peter’s spine and he felt bile rise up to the back of his throat.  

“Yes, Judy,” a young boy sobbed. “I understand.” 

Peter yanked open the window and vaulted inside the room, a flash of red hair disappearing out the door as he did so. He desperately wanted to chase after her, to web her down so she couldn’t get away, so that she could be punished for what she had done. But then he noticed the tear-streaked face of the boy who had curled up into himself in the corner of the room, shoulders shaking, and very cautiously knelt down in front of him.  

The visible relief in the boy’s expression at the sight of Spider-Man made Peter’s heart soften. 

“Hey,” he spoke quietly. “What’s your name?” 

“Connor,” the boy sniffled, wiping his eyes with his sleeve. 

“Hi, Connor. Do you wanna tell me who that girl is and what she was doing here?” 

“Judy? She’s… she’s my sitter. My mom and dad are at a party across town and she was taking care of me.” 

Peter took a deep breath. “I know something happened here tonight, Connor. That’s why Judy ran away, right? I’m your friend… don’t be afraid to tell me.” 

Connor wrung his hands together anxiously and bit his lip. “Judy said it was a _secret_ \- and that she’d hurt me if I told!” 

“I know it seems scary, but… there are some things that end up hurting more if you keep them to yourself.” 

There was a long silence, in which Connor clearly contemplated this, and eventually, he nodded. “Okay,” he choked. “I always liked Judy. We’d watch TV and play games during the dumb ol’ commercials. She’d let me stay up real late and watch any show I wanted! I asked Judy if I could watch Star Wars tonight and then she started tickling me and said she’d let me on one condition… that I’d take all my clothes off. I… I didn’t understand what was happening, but it didn’t seem right! So, I tried to go to bed but then she got angry and the she started to touch me. That’s… That’s when you showed up. I’m scared, Spidey… tell me - did I do something wrong? Is this all my fault?” 

Peter’s heart shattered and his eyes burned with tears. “Don’t even think that! Of course, it’s not your fault!” her objected vehemently. “She was wrong to touch you like that and you did the right thing by telling me.” 

He could tell the boy still looked somewhat uncertain, so he took another breath, and plunged forward. 

“This, uh, this reminds me of something that happened a long time ago to a boy like you, except he lived with his aunt and uncle. To make his aunt and uncle happy, the boy studied very hard and didn’t have much time for sports, so… he got pushed around a lot… called names. He grew used to that kinda thing - pretty much the only friends this boy had were books. Then one day, he met this older boy in the library called Skip who was really nice, nicknamed him ‘Einstein’ and wanted to become friends… and they did. They spent _hours_ together playing games and talking about all sorts of things. Skip lived with his mom so when she was at work, they were alone.” 

Connor was staring at him intently, so Peter continued.

“And then… and then one time Skip pulled out some adult magazines - ones that aren’t appropriate for kids. He said that they should conduct a little experiment and see if they could touch each other like the people in the magazine - which was very, _very_ wrong. The boy didn’t want to but he was too scared to move - to leave. A couple weeks later, his aunt and uncle noticed that he wasn’t spending any time with Skip, and they asked him about it. It was really hard but… somehow, he found the courage to tell them what happened. Just like you, he did the right thing. When something you can’t handle by yourself happens, you gotta tell an adult. I know, Connor… I know because that young boy was me.” 

Connor’s eyes widened. 

“You’ll be okay, Connor. I know this seems really scary right now,” Peter said, his voice cracking, “but if you tell your parents, Judy will go away and she won’t hurt you again. Do you think you can tell them?” 

Connor nodded, and Peter was startled when he threw himself at Peter and wrapped his arms tightly around him. Peter’s lip trembled as he reciprocated the hug and Connor buried his face in his neck. 

He wondered how it felt to be hugged by your hero when you needed it most.

“Thank you, Spidey,” he mumbled. “You’re the greatest. You’re my hero.” 

Peter huffed out a laugh and pulled away from the hug, resting his hands on Connor’s shoulders. “You are _so_ brave. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. You’re _my_ hero, Connor.” 

Connor beamed and let out a small giggle. 

“Say, uh, do you know what time your parents are going to be home?” 

“They just said it’d be late and I’d be asleep.” 

“Alright, uh, I’ll wait here with you until they come back, alright?” Peter promised, as Connor climbed into his bed and curled up under the covers. 

“ _Incoming call from Tony Stark,”_ Karen voiced, the man’s face coming up in front of Peter’s eyes. 

“Tell him I’m fine, but I’m in the middle of something important and I’ll call him later.” 

It was only ten minutes later that Connor’s parents came home, very confused to see Spider-Man there and no Judy. Peter helped the boy explain to his parents what had happened, and their confusion rapidly turned to horror and rage. It was an extremely emotional conversation (Peter was grateful for his mask) but in the end, his parents were tremendously grateful for what Peter had done and extremely supportive and proud of their son for telling them. 

When Peter was halfway to the tower, he realised he’d forgotten to call Mr Stark, but he’d be there in a couple minutes so he figured it was pointless. When he reached the top of the tower (it was times like that when Peter wasn’t a fan of how tall it was), he clambered over the balcony rail and walked inside. 

Mr Stark was sitting at the kitchen table in his pyjamas, and stood up when Peter walked in and pulled off his mask. 

“I was going to be on time, but then something happened on the way home. You can punish me all you want and tell May, but I don’t regret it,” Peter said hotly before Mr Stark could say anything. 

The billionaire raised his eyebrows and held his hands up. “Woah, hang on kid, I didn’t say anything. What happened?” 

Suddenly, Peter’s tongue felt paralysed. He was pretty certain he wouldn’t be able to talk about what happened without crying and he _really_ didn’t want to go through it with him. “Uh, just a mugging,” he lied, only to realise that muggings were usually pretty quick to deal with. “But I walked the woman home after.” 

“She didn’t want to swing?” Mr Stark asked in mild surprise, a small smirk pulling at his lips.  

“Afraid of heights.” 

“Ah,” he nodded. “So, you stopped him? Or her… women can be criminals too.” 

Peter gave a weak laugh. “Yeah, I got him.” 

“Good job, kiddo. I’m proud of you,” the man complimented, and a warmth spread through Peter’s chest. That quickly dissipated, however, when Mr Stark gave him a friendly clap on the shoulder. The action would usually make Peter beam, but after the events of the night, he couldn’t help the unpleasant shiver that ran down his spine. Before Mr Stark could question it, he rubbed at his arm as if he was cold and averted his eyes. “Any weird stories?” Mr Stark asked after a moment. He seemed to be confused by Peter’s lack of chatter when the boy usually would return from patrol talking at a pace he couldn’t even understand. 

“Um, no. I’m… I’m actually pretty tired, I’m going to head to bed.” 

“Oh… okay, buddy. Are you okay? Did something serious happen?” 

“Nah, I’m just tired,” Peter brushed it off, starting to walk towards his room. 

“Alright, kid,” he nodded, despite clearly not believing him. “I’ll see you in the morning.” 

“Mister Stark?” the boy spoke up, stopping in the hallway. 

“Yeah, Underoos?” 

“Thanks for waiting up. You didn’t have to do that.”

“I know I don’t, but I find it easier to sleep knowing your scrawny ass is safe,” Mr Stark grinned. 

“Oh,” Peter mumbled with a slight blush, suddenly feeling a rush of affection towards the man. “Goodnight, Mister Stark.” 

“Goodnight, bud.” 

 

 

 _Don’t you ever stop thinking, Einstein? Hey, I’ve got something to show you that’s guaranteed to take your mind off science!_  

_Bet you’ve never seen pictures like those in a stuffy textbook!_

_Come on, Einstein! Let’s conduct a little experiment of our own!_

_Hands on his body._  

_A mouth on his neck._

_A body pressed against his._

_Someone was grabbing at his arms and he screamed and tried to shove them off-_

 

 

“KID!”

Peter lurched awake, still kicking and hyperventilating, his entire body shaking. Mr Stark was standing next to him, looking at the boy with worry evident in his tired eyes. 

“Just breathe, buddy, breathe. You’re okay.” 

As he said that, Peter suddenly became of the hand that was resting on his shoulder and he flinched away violently. Mr Stark withdrew his hand quickly and stared at him helplessly. 

“S-sorry,” Peter breathed, running his hands through his hair. “I’m- I’m okay, you can go back to bed, sorry I woke you-”

“What? Pete, stop apologising, you’ve got nothing to be sorry for,” Mr Stark said softly, sitting down at the very bottom of his bed. “And you’re not okay. Tell me what’s going on, kiddo.” 

“It’s just… Vulture stuff.” 

“I thought you weren’t having nightmares about that anymore.” 

His tone suggested he knew that Peter wasn’t being honest and that agitated him. He was so _frustrated_ because he thought he was over this, and he was so relieved that he got the young boy out of that before it could get worse, but he hated that Skip still had control over him like this. 

“Well, clearly not,” Peter snapped, preparing for the man to get fed up and leave. 

“Pete… I know that’s not the truth. I’ve seen your Vulture nightmares before, this was something else entirely. Something happened on patrol last night and I didn’t want to push you about it, but it’s clearly really affected you.” 

Despite how hard he fought it, a sob escaped the boy, and warm tears ran down his face. Mr Stark moved, as if to comfort him but seemed to think better of it and pulled back. This only made him cry harder because right now he desperately wanted to be hugged or comforted or _something_ , but Mr Stark was acting like he would break if he came too close. He couldn’t blame him though - Peter was the one who wrenched out of his grip and flinched away from him. Besides, he was dirty and gross and contaminated, because despite all the years that had passed it had never truly gone away and he could  _feel_ Skip’s hands on him. Peter just kept sobbing, no longer able to hold back the tidal wave that had finally broken through the dam.

“ _Kid_ ,” Mr Stark said weakly, looking utterly lost. A plea. “Talk to me, _please_.” 

He couldn’t do this anymore. 

 _Don’t be afraid to tell me_ , he had told Connor. _I know it seems scary, but… there are some things that end up hurting more if you keep them to yourself_. 

 _You are so brave_ , he had said. 

“I couldn’t stop him,” Peter cried. 

“Who? The mugger?” 

Peter shook his head. 

“There _was_ no mugger.”

“Alright,” Mr Stark began slowly when he didn’t explain any further. “So, what _did_ happen?”

“I wasn’t very popular when I was younger,” Peter managed, his voice hoarse. “I mean... I’m not popular now, but I literally had no one, not a single friend. When I was eight, this older kid called Skip came up to me in the library one day. He seemed really cool and really nice, kept saying I was really smart and he called me ‘Einstein’. We became friends really quickly and we hung out a lot. Most of the time that we were at his house we were on our own because his parents were divorced and he lived with his mom and she had to work a lot.”  

Mr Stark’s expression was anxious, nervous about what possible direction this story could go that would make Pete wake up screaming and hyperventilating. 

“One day we were playing pool and I said something about the balls looking like the solar system and he told me that I’m always thinking and that he had something that would take my mind off science. He- he pulled out some magazines... _adult_ magazines,” he went on, voice wobbling dangerously.

Peter could pinpoint the exact moment that Mr Stark registered what he had said and what he was about to say. 

“He s-said we should conduct our own little experiment to see if we could- if we could copy the people in them. And- and I said no. I said no but I was too scared to move and  _I couldn’t stop him_!” 

 

 

Tony was livid. He was angry and heartbroken and distraught that someone had done something so horrific and disgusting to this sweet, innocent, _perfect_ kid - _his_ kid. He desperately wanted to pull the boy into the tightest hug imaginable and never let him go, but he had seen the wild raw panic in his face when he’d woken up and witnessed the full-body flinch that jerked Peter away from his touch. It was perfectly understandable, however, he felt so helpless. Tony Stark was a mechanic, he fixed things, that’s what he did. He was famously resourceful and good at solving problems. But how could he possibly even begin to fix this? 

“That was- that was like nine years ago,” Peter continued. “I thought I’d gotten over it, that I’d moved past it. I haven’t had nightmares about it for years, but on patrol last night, I was on my way home when I heard this... whimpering coming from a nearby apartment and some kid was saying, ‘leave me alone, I don’t want to do anything like _that_ ’. L-long story short, he was being a-abused by his babysitter. She ran away when I got there, and I was going to chase after her but then- but then I saw the kid and... I saw _me_. He told me what had h-happened and so I told him about Skip and stayed with him until his p-parents got home and we- we told them.” 

“Oh, Pete...” 

“I keep thinking about how he asked what he did wrong and if it was his fault. Obviously, it wasn’t, and I told him that, but then I realised that I thought the exact same thing- I _have_ been for the last nine years and... and maybe it wasn’t my fault either, y’know?” 

“Of _course,_ it wasn’t your fault,” Tony replied brokenly, aghast that he could think like that. “Peter, you have the biggest heart in the entire world and I know that if anyone else was in your position, you’d say without a doubt that it wasn’t their fault in the slightest. So why are _you_ any different? What could possibly make you responsible for that?” 

“I didn’t try hard enough,” Peter shook his head. “I could have gotten away but I didn’t _fucking_ move because I was too scared.” 

“Which is a perfectly normal response. There’s fight and flight, sure. But there’s also fright - sometimes our bodies seize up and don’t do anything and it’s fucking ridiculous from an evolutionary standpoint but it happens and it’s normal and it is in no way shape or form your fault.” 

A new wave of tears rolled down Peter’s blotchy cheeks and Tony felt a painful tug at his heart. Suddenly, he couldn’t take it anymore. 

“Peter, kiddo, can I hug you?” 

“ _Please_ ,” the boy whispered pleadingly and practically fell into Tony’s arms. 

 

 

They held onto each other tightly and Peter came to the realisation that _that’s_ what it felt like. He wondered if this is how Connor had felt. He hoped so. 

Mr Stark was warm and safe and _home_. The man lifted a hand to play with Peter’s curls and run his fingers through his hair soothingly. 

“I’ve got you, kid. I’ve got you.”  

They stayed like that for a few minutes, until Peter calmed down and his breathing returned to normal again. He pulled away from the embrace and, for a minute, thought he might float away. In the last couple of years, Mr Stark had easily become one of the most important people in Peter’s life. The only other people (alive) who knew about Skip were May and Ned, who found out years ago. Telling the man had caused a suffocating weight to lift off his chest, and this sudden sense of lightness caused him to grip the sheets on his bed to stop him drifting away. 

Mr Stark gave him a small smile, although it didn’t quite reach his eyes and Peter could tell there was something on his mind. “Is… was he arrested?” he asked after a moment. 

Peter nodded. “He’d be out by now, though. I’m pretty sure he only spent a couple years in juvie. The judge felt bad for him because he was young and good at football and it was his first offence. But… looking back, I doubt it was. There were probably others…” He felt kind of numb, like he’d run out of tears for the night and no longer had the capacity to feel anything. “He wasn’t even registered.” 

 

 

Tony’s mouth fell open slightly, unable to fully comprehend the fact that that sick fuck merely got a couple years in juvenile prison for permanently scarring Peter and God knows who else. Who gave a shit about Skip’s future? What about the future of the boy whose life he destroyed? 

“ _He_ was young?” he repeated angrily, ready to charge into a furious tangent.

“Don’t,” Peter muttered, staring down at his hands. “It’s done, he’s out, probably living a normal life and there’s nothing I can do about it.” 

The boy’s voice was monotonous and lifeless, void of any emotion. Somehow, this was worse than seeing him cry.  

“The guy who raped me is free and I can’t change that.”

Peter hadn’t specified how far it went, and Tony had desperately hoped it hadn’t gone further than touching - that was traumatic enough. But hearing the word ‘raped’ come out of the boy’s mouth made him feel nauseous.  

“Come on, buddy, let’s get you a hot cocoa,” Tony suggested, standing up and offering a hand. 

Peter confusedly glanced at the clock, which read 4:21am.  

“It’s the perfect time for cocoa,” Tony insisted, following his gaze. “Unless... you’d rather go back to sleep?” 

The boy quickly shook his head, let Tony pull him to his feet and followed the man into the dimly lit kitchen. He slumped down onto one of the stools while Tony started preparing the hot beverages. 

“Hey, FRI, play songs from that weird musical Pete likes about America’s political history.” 

“It’s called Hamilton and you know it,” Peter chimed, the corners of his lips quirking upwards. “Don’t deny it” 

“I’ll deny it as much as I want, punk. I have a reputation to uphold.” 

“Uh-huh,” Peter grinned, resting his chin in the palm of his hand.

“You got something to say?” Tony demanded, pointing a finger at him, unable to put any real heat into it when he looked at his kid, staring dopily at him with big brown eyes.

“Nope.” 

“That’s what I thought,” he replied, throwing a marshmallow and hitting the boy square on the nose. Peter drew back with a giggle, and put the marshmallow in his mouth with a smug expression. Tony fought back a stupid smile. “You’re lucky I-” he cut himself off when he realised what song was playing and looked up at the ceiling with an accusing stare.

‘ _I’m dedicating every day to you… domestic life was never quite my style.’_

Peter looked confused for a moment, but his expression quickly morphed into amusement. “What’s wrong, Mister Stark?”

“Nothing,” he shook his head, sliding Peter a steaming mug. “Now, how about we watch a movie? FRIDAY, turn that crap off.”

“You love it,” Peter teased, standing up as the man walked around the counter.

“I’m not so sure about that,” Tony said, coming to stand in front of him. “But what I _am_ sure about, is that I love _you_.” He pulled Peter into another hug, which the boy immediately leant into and wrapped his arms tightly around the billionaire. The force made his ribcage hurt slightly, but he wasn’t going to say anything.

“I love you too, Mister Stark,” he replied, voice muffled by Tony’s shoulder.

“For the love of god, please call me ‘Tony’. We’re way past ‘Mister Stark’.”

“Okay, Mister Tony.”

Tony laughed and pulled away to ruffle Peter’s hair. “We’ll get there eventually.”  

 

 

 


	2. It Comes and Goes in Waves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yet again, Peter had managed to escape with merely a few words and Tony was starting to get pissed off. Admittedly, not at Peter. He of all people couldn’t criticise Peter for avoiding something that was troubling him and not telling anyone and letting it consume him - that’d be hypocritical as fuck. If anything, though, Tony had learnt through that experience that pulling shit like that was not healthy at all and- shit, Peter wasn’t dying, was he? Is that why he was getting weird about college? Tony quickly tried to dismiss the thought, swallowing down the oncoming panic that had begun to rise. The only reason Tony hadn’t told anyone he was dying was because he thought (knew) that he was the only person who could do anything about it. If Peter was dying, surely he’d know that Tony would do absolutely everything in his power to stop it. 
> 
> Right?
> 
> OR, Peter's acting weird, Tony finally talks to him about it and the conversation goes in the worst possible direction for Peter.

 

Tony had noticed that Peter was acting… off. He kept cancelling their lab sessions, giving vague excuses as to why he couldn’t go, he’d take forever to answer his texts and when they _did_ talk, he wasn’t very responsive. Tony would be the one to have to carry the conversation, rather than hardly being able to get a word in between his barely-comprehensible rambling. And that’s what concerned him the most. 

If Peter couldn’t come over as much because he’d started actually having a life (and  ~~maybe~~ hopefully a girlfriend or boyfriend?) Tony was fine with that - encouraged it. God knows the kid needed to actually have time to _be_ a kid before he went off to college next month. But it was the sudden quietness that had overcome the boy that unnerved him. It had been a relatively gradual process, which is probably why it took Tony as long as it did to pick up on the unusual behaviour.

Even May had noticed. The woman called asking if he knew what was wrong, because Peter hadn’t been talking to her as much and often wasn’t home. And _look_ , Tony wasn’t proud of the slightly relieved feeling that nudged at him when he found out she was receiving similar treatment - obviously that wasn’t good. But he couldn’t help the relief that it wasn’t personal, that Tony hadn’t fucked up, it wasn’t something he’d done. 

Of course, that still meant that they weren’t that much closer to figuring out what was wrong. May insisted that she’d tried to get it out of Peter, but he kept brushing her off and sometimes getting snippy with her. Now, _that_ was concerning. Unsure of what else to do, May asked Tony if he could try. The man had pointed out that he hadn’t even seen Peter in three weeks, to which she had explained that she had a work conference to go tothe following week in DC, which a couple of the other girls were planning on making into a girls weekend and had invited her. Realising she could use this as an excuse to get Peter over at the compound for a whole weekend so that Tony could have a chance at getting through to him, she accepted. 

“I don’t see why you think he’ll talk to me if he won’t talk to you, but I’ll try,” Tony promised.

“ _He loves you, Tony,_ ” May stated. “A _nd I know he loves me, but there are some things he might not want to talk to his aunt about._ ”

Tony pulled a face. “Like… relationship stuff?”

“ _I don’t know, he’s never had a problem with talking to me about relationships before. That doesn’t mean it’s not that, of course, but I don’t think it is.”_

“You think it might be Spider-Man related?”

There was a pause in which Tony was pretty sure she was chewing anxiously on her lip.

“ _Maybe_ ,” she said after a moment, in a tone that told him she didn’t believe so. “ _I… I think it might have something to do with college. He kinda… shuts down a little whenever I mention MIT but he won’t talk to me about it. I’ve asked and he always insists everything’s fine, like I’m fucking stupid._ ”

Tony blinked, wondering why he hadn’t considered that before. As a teenager, he had been thrilled to go to college so he’d be away from his dad. Of course, he’d missed Jarvis terribly, the butler being his only friend until that point. The man had practically raised him and Tony had loved him deeply, however, a large part of him had desperately wanted to get out that cold house, to get a fresh start. It hadn’t occurred to him that Peter probably didn’t _want_ a fresh start. Why would he? Peter had a loving aunt with whom he lived, all his friends were here, he had a real and a fake internship, both of which he loved, and his _super_ cool mentor for both.

Guilt flooded him when he thought of all his teasing about Peter’s future partying days in college and how he’ll obviously thrash everyone with his genius intellect. He thought the kid was just being bashful, not that he was making him actually uncomfortable and anxious. He could understand why Peter would be anxious about going to college; living in a whole new place with a bunch of new people in a completely different environment is pretty terrifying. Especially for rambling, stuttering, awkward-as-shit introverts with rather poor people skills.

But it still didn’t really explain why he’d been avoiding them. Tony had had plenty of conversations with Peter about anxiety and about going to him when he was feeling anxious, and they’d been doing well for the last couple of years. They’d reached the point where Peter would actually talk to Tony if he was anxious about anything, so he didn’t understand why he’d suddenly cut him out now. It… It kind of hurt.

“I’ll talk to him about it,” he decided finally. “I’ll see what I can do.”

_“Thank you, Tony, it means a lot.”_

“It’s not a problem, May, really,” he insisted. “He’s a great kid, I just want him to be happy.”

 _“You and me both,”_ she sighed. “ _I’ll talk to you later.”_

Tony ran his hands over his face when the call ended. Why did teenagers have to be so damn complicated?

 

 

When Peter arrived the following Friday afternoon, Tony was completely thrown off by his stand-off-ish behaviour. He barely looked the man in the eye as he walked in, just muttering a quiet ‘hey’ and walking past, towards his bedroom as Happy threw Tony a look that indicated he had no idea what was going wrong.

“What the hell?” Happy whispered once the boy was out of earshot.

“He’s been like this for a few weeks,” Tony murmured back. “That’s why he’s here, so he can’t escape and I can actually find out why he’s acting like this. I thought it was about college, but that was… _frosty_. Maybe I did something?”

“I’m not an expert on teenagers, but I’m pretty sure locking them inside and forcing them to talk doesn’t usually work.”

Tony’s pressed his lips together and nodded slightly. “I know… but frankly, I don’t know what else to do. I feel like I’ve tried everything. Except alcohol, that usually loosens peoples’ tongues but I feel like that’s morally questionable-“

“He’s eighteen,” Happy deadpanned. “Definitely morally questionable.”

“Which is why I haven’t done it yet!” Tony defended.

“Yet?”

“Look, if I get really desperate-“

“Tony!”

“Oh, come one, would you rather he drink at parties with a bunch of irresponsible, drunk, unsupervised teenagers or with me?”

“It’s one thing to have a drink with your underage kid, but in the eyes of the law, you’re not his legal guardian _and_ if you’re just doing it to get information out of him, that’s just wrong.”

“I know,” Tony sighed. “I know. I just… I don’t know what I’ll do if this doesn’t work. He’s very obviously not okay and he’s shutting himself away and I don’t like it.”

“I’ve got to go and pick up Pepper from that board meeting and take her to the office, but… keep me updated.”

Tony knew Happy wouldn’t admit it out loud, but he’d grown fond of Peter - it was hard not to with his baby face and doe eyes and dopey smile- He shook his head. He needed to stop missing Peter’s smile and work on actually getting it back.

After the man left, Tony made his way to Peter’s room and knocked on the door. He was confused when he got no response, but when he strained his ears, he could hear the sound of the shower running. He pressed his lips together and ran a hand through his hair before shaking his head again. They didn’t have to talk as soon as he got there, it’d be somewhat suspicious if he did. He needed Peter to settle in first and they had the whole weekend. Besides, he’d have to eat dinner at some point, he couldn’t stay holed up in his room forever.

 

 

When Peter finally came into the kitchen, Tony was beginning to prepare dinner. The boy hesitated in the doorway for a moment before coming forward and sitting at the counter.

“You’re cooking?” he asked in surprise.

“Yep - I’m doing, uh-“ he glanced down at the screen at the recipe he was going off. “Chilli cashew chicken stir-fry.”

“Something with vegetables,” Peter noted in amusement.

Tony hesitated a moment, before seizing the opportunity. “Yeah, I figured I should get some veggies in you before you head off to college and live off ramen for an obscene amount of time.”

It was instant, the way Peter’s face fell slightly and he gave a weak laugh. _Bingo_.

“You excited?”

It was a cheap shot, but he was hoping that by digging at it, Peter would eventually burst and spill everything. Unfortunately, at that very moment, Peter’s phone started ringing and he jumped at it, muttering out an apology and walking off with the phone against his ear.

“Hey, Ned, what’s up?”

Tony threw his head back in exasperation, cursing Ned under his breath.

Conveniently, Peter didn’t come back until Tony told FRIDAY to let him know dinner was ready. Tony had spent the rest of the time making dinner hyping himself up for a heart-to-heart, however, when Peter sat down, he started shoving down his food at an inhuman speed, using the fact that his mouth was full to not talk.

“I’m sorry, Tony, but I’m really tired, I’m going to go to bed,” he announced as soon as he was done, already standing to put his plate in the dishwasher.

“Oh, okay,” the man replied, only halfway through his meal, unable to keep the hurt out of his voice.

He noticed Peter pause for a fraction of a second, his eyes glancing back a the man guiltily. “I’ll… I’ll see you tomorrow, g’night.”

“Goodnight, underoos.”

 

 

The following morning, Tony made breakfast, hoping to have a proper conversation with Peter this time. Naturally, the boy came bounding down, shovelled the food down and said he was hanging out with Ned and MJ in the city for the day.

Fuck.

“Alright, buddy, but be back by five, alright?”

Peter paused. “Why?”

“What do you mean, ‘why’? I want to have dinner with my favourite intern. I hardly saw you yesterday.”

“O-okay,” he nodded reluctantly. “I’ll see you later.”

Yet again, Peter had managed to escape with merely a few words and Tony was starting to get pissed off. Admittedly, not at Peter. He of all people couldn’t criticise Peter for avoiding something that was troubling him and not telling anyone and letting it consume him - that’d be hypocritical as fuck. If anything, though, Tony had learnt through that experience that pulling shit like that was not healthy at all and- shit, Peter wasn’t _dying_ , was he? Is _that_ why he was getting weird about college? Tony quickly tried to dismiss the thought, swallowing down the oncoming panic that had begun to rise. The only reason Tony hadn’t told anyone he was dying of palladium poisoning was because he thought (knew) that he was the only person who could do anything about it. If Peter was dying, surely he’d know that Tony would do absolutely everything in his power to stop it.

Right?

 

 

When it got to 5:01pm, Tony tried not to get shitty. It was certainly irrational - had it been any normal day when Peter wasn’t ghosting everyone, one minute past the time he was meant to be back wouldn’t be a big deal at all. But Tony had not had a fun day. He’d spent most of it monitoring Peter’s vitals from the high-tech watch he’d given him a year ago with an array of safety features for when he wasn’t in the suit. And despite rationalising that Peter probably wasn’t dying, the idea had seeped into his mind like a stain that he couldn’t get rid of. 

God, he was so sick of this and he just wanted Peter to be _honest_ with him, to tell him what was upsetting him so that he didn’t have to face it alone. Tony knew how much that fucking sucked.

So when the boy walked out of the elevator at 5:02pm Tony immediately swivelled around on the kitchen stool and scanned over his figure for any sign of pain or injury, but found none. He couldn’t stop thinking about his days of thinking he was going to die of palladium poisoning and suddenly Tony wasn’t really sure how to ask if Peter was dying without sounding insane. Then again, when had sane been something he aspired to be?

“You’re not dying are you?” he blurted out, before Peter even had the chance to say hello.

Peter stopped abruptly, face scrunching up. “I’m not-sorry, what?”

Tony knew that Peter was a great deflector, but he was a _terrible_ liar. So the complete and genuine bewilderment in his voice and on his face immediately filled Tony with relief.

“Sorry, that was a really weird question, I just-“ he cut himself off and took a deep breath. “You’ve been avoiding me, kid, and I don’t know why-“

“Tony-“ Peter began, looking uncomfortable again, eyes flitting towards the hallway to his room.

“You gotta _talk_ to me, Pete, _please._ I don’t know what’s going on with you, but whatever it is, you don’t have to deal with it on your own. I haven’t seen you in weeks, I haven’t seen you smile once since you got here, you won’t talk to me… you gotta let me in, buddy. I just want to help you.”

Peter’s eyes started to water and he ducked his head to stare at the car keys in his hand.

“This is about college, isn’t it? May and I have both noticed you acting weird about it.”

The kid’s eyes snapped up to him at the mention of his aunt and he chewed at his lip guiltily.

“Is it MIT? Would you rather go to a different college? Would you rather not go to college at all?”

Peter made a noise of frustration, which Tony could tell was directed at himself as he struggled to answer. “Yes and no. I… I really want to go to college, Tony, and I’m really excited about going to MIT, but… I don’t want to leave.” 

Oh.

_Oh._

“Kid,” Tony breathed, as Peter wiped at his eyes and slumped down into the seat next to him.

He wasn’t anxious about _going_ , he was anxious about _leaving_.

“Like… I’m really looking forward to college, and meeting new people will be scary but I’m still excited for it, you know? It’s just… my whole l-life is _here_. And it’s like… the reason I love my apartment is because it feels like home, but it only feels like home because of _M-May_. And I feel like this- this city is mine because its Ned’s and MJ’s too. And I love c-coming here, but not because of the tower or anything in it, b-because of _you_. But I won’t have any of you when I’m there and I feel so p-pathetic for crying about it, but I can’t help but loathe the idea of a life without any of y-you.”

By now, tears were rolling down his cheeks, and his red-rimmed shining brown eyes caused some pull in Tony to stand up and draw the boy into a tight hug.

“That’s why you isolated yourself,” Tony realised aloud.

“I th-thought that if I d-distanced myself I could get u-used to it, you know?” Peter sniffled into his shoulder. “B-but it only made it w-worse and I’m so _sorry_ for making you guys worry about me, but I felt so _stupid_.”

“You’re not stupid, Pete,” Tony murmured, running a hand through Peter’s hair. “Well… I mean, that's debatablebut not for being upset about leaving. You don’t think I don’t want you to leave, either? We both know I’m going to struggle upholding basic human functions when you leave.”

Peter let out a wet laugh.

“You know that we’re not just going to suddenly stop being in your life when you leave, right? Thanks to this newfangled technology we can text each other, call each other, even _video chat_.”

Peter shoved him off playfully and wiped at his eyes, smiling sadly. “It’s not the same. I… okay, I feel like this is going to make me sound like a serial killer.”

“Well, we both know you’re not and I’ve said some pretty weird shit in my time, so fire away.”

“I.. I have a thing with smells. Like… May has a distinctive smell, and so do Ned and MJ and you. And I don’t know how to explain it, but I associate the smells of the people I care about with safety and comfort and stuff… I know that probably sounds weird-”

“It’s not weird,” Tony shrugged. “I don’t get people who _don’t_ get the smell thing. Sometimes when Pepper’s away, I sleep on her side of the bed because it smells like her. And she takes my clothes all the time for the same reason. It’s going to suck for a while, kid, it’s true. But we can still talk, and unless the world needs saving, I’ll always be prepared to fly over in the suit so you can remind yourself how great I smell.”

“ _Tony-”_ Peter whined, causing the man to bark out a laugh.

“I’m just teasing you. But it’ll get better, I promise. No one’s expecting you to be fine when you upend your life like that, but you’ll make friends and you can all distract each other from being homesick and help each other through it. And you can always call any of us, anyway. And I wasn’t joking, if you need, I can fly over for whatever reason.”

“Thank you, Tony,” Peter smiled, letting himself be pulled into another firm hug.

“You feel better?”

Peter nodded.

“Good. Do you want to order some pizza and watch Brooklyn Nine-Nine?”

“Uh, _yes._ ”

 

 

“Did you really think I was dying?” Peter asked as Tony was laying out the pizza boxes on the coffee table. The man froze and glanced sheepishly at him.

“I… I didn’t think so, but I guess I was thinking about whatever it could be you were hiding from everyone and why you were isolating yourself and it made me think of the time I was dying from palladium poisoning-”

 _“You were dying from palladium poisoning?!”_ Peter screeched. _"When?!"_

“Ah… sometimes I forget people don’t know about that. It was years ago... Like 2010.”

“ _Dude._ ”

“That’s besides the point,” he waved a dismissive hand. “The point is, your behaviour kinda reminded me of mine when all that was happening and I figured if something like that was happening you’d tell me, but I couldn’t help but… be concerned, I guess.”

“I can promise you now, if I was dying, I’d let you know,” Peter promised softly, wide brown eyes boring into Tony’s.

“Thanks, Pete,” the man said with a slight laugh. “That’s surprisingly reassuring.”

“Can _you_ promise _me_ that you’ll tell me if you’re dying again?” the teenager shot back.

“Sure, Underoos,” he grinned, ruffling his hair.

“Do you really think I’ll make friends at MIT?” Peter asked after a moment. 

Tony looked at him in surprise. “Of course. I know it seems terrifying, but it’s actually a lot of fun - you get to reinvent yourself.”

Peter’s head jerked back in mild offence. “What’s wrong with the way I am?”

“Nothing, kid,” he smiled fondly. “Nothing at all. I just mean that not knowing anyone there can be a blessing. Everyone there will be meeting you for the first time, they won’t know that some asswipe nicknamed you Penis Parker. They’ll just know you as Peter, the kind, funny, genius, dumbass disaster that I know.”

Peter drew his head back even further in affront.

“Don’t look at me like that. Are you insanely smart? Yes. But did you throw a cup of juice onto your bed instead of your phone? Also yes.”

“That was _one_ time.”

“What about the other night when you turned the TV down so you could taste your mac and cheese better? Or the time you thought your food vanished from the microwave, when it turned out you’d just forgotten to put it in there before turning it on? Now that I think about it, I’m concerned about sending you off to college.”

Peter scowled. “Okay, you know what, you’re one to talk - what about the time you threw a plate in the bin?”

“That was intentional, I didn’t like that plate-”

“It _was not!_ I saw you looking for it later. Besides, it was the same as all the plates that are still in the cupboard. You’ve done _plenty_ of dumb shit and you survived college just fine.”

Tony grimaced. “I really hope your college experience is much better than mine, kiddo. I mean… I know it will be because you’re actually a mature and responsible kid. I was fifteen and drinking and getting high and having sex. Not to say that you can’t do that stuff, but I was far too young and naive. If you’re gonna drink, do it in moderation and with people you trust… I’d really rather you stayed away from all drugs, but I understand if you’re curious, and if you’re going to do it, don’t do any hard stuff and make sure you know what it is and, again, only with people you trust. As for sex-”

Peter flushed. “Tony, you don’t have to-”

“Shh, I’m bestowing wisdom onto you. Some people are very lax about sex, and that’s fine, but it is a very intimate and vulnerable experience and you should only do it with someone you’re comfortable with and always use protection. If you’re not gonna sack it, go home and whack it.”

Peter buried his face in his hands. “Oh my god.”

“And if you’re with a guy, don’t let him in unless he’s wearing a condom.”

“Okay, Tony, I think-”

“And don’t underestimate the important of foreplay. Especially for your first time, it’s a good way to ease into it and make sure you’re both comfortable. And it also helps your body become physically ready, because if you just go charging into things underprepared, it’s much less comfortable. And the most effective lubricant is actual lube, don’t let anyone tell you spit will work just as well, do it properly.”

“Are you finished?” Peter asked in a strangled voice.

“Oh, that’s another thing - don’t be selfish when it comes to sex. It’s not just about your pleasure, make sure your partner finishes too.”

“Uh, what did I miss?”

Peter’s head shot up the arrival of Rhodey, who was clearly very confused about what he had walked into.

“Honey bear!” Tony greeted cheerfully. “I’ve just been giving Pete some advice about hanky panky.” 

“Please save me,” he begged, hope draining when Rhodey’s grin widened.

“No, no, no - this is important,” he insisted and took a seat next to Tony, much to the billionaire’s amusement.

Peter flopped back dramatically with a heavy groan.

“Oh, and consent! Consent is really important. You know how all that works, right?”

“Yeah, but I suspect you’re gonna tell me any-”

“Even if they seem really keen, you should make sure, get verbal consent,” Tony began. “And if they change their mind at any point, you stop instantly. Same for you, obviously - don’t feel like just because you started, you can’t stop. You’re perfectly in your right to say no whenever you want. And if they’re drunk, it’s an automatic no, no matter how much they want it. Don’t sleep with a drunk person and don’t sleep with anyone when drunk. Don’t let anyone try and pressure you or guilt you into anything, you don’t owe anyone shit, let alone your body. And if anyone isn’t taking no for an answer, don’t hesitate to use that spider strength of yours to your advantage. Oh, there’s that too - I obviously don’t have super strength, but I have seen that scene in Twilight, when they’re on their honeymoon and Cedric or whatever-”

“I get it!” Peter exclaimed.

“The point is, be aware of your strength. I know you always are, but it’s common to get a bit carried away during sex and you don’t wanna accidentally hurt anyone.”

“Don’t forget about kinks,” Rhodey chimed in, much to Peter’s horror.

“Oh yeah!” Tony grinned.

“MISTER RHODES!”

“If you want to explore kinks and stuff,” Tony started, ignoring Peter’s protests, “before you do anything, you need to negotiate your comfort range, have some kind of safety system set up, whether it be hand gestures, a safe word, a traffic light system, whatever. Also don’t let anyone you don’t completely trust tie you up, because one time I let this chick tie me up and then she just took my money, got dressed and left. Fortunately for me, I’d ordered room service so -although I probably scarred that poor woman- I wasn’t stuck like that for long.”

“Okay, I think I got it-” Peter insisted, face red.

“Also, don’t do anything illegal, nothing in public-” 

“Why would I do anything in _public_?!” he interrupted in bewilderment.

“It’s all well and good until the cops show up and take you back to your parents and spare no detail. Not that you’ll have to worry about that part ‘cause you’re eighteen, but-”

“Are you speaking from _experience_?” Peter asked, looking as thought he didn’t really want to know the answer.

“Yeah, not my proudest moment. Never did anything like it again. Dad certainly wasn’t pleased but I think he was more angry that it was with a guy. Look, the point is, don’t do anything _you’re_ not one hundred percent comfortable with, and don’t do anything that your _partner_ isn’t one hundred percent comfortable with. Don’t let anyone convince you or persuade you into anything, always stick with your initial gut instinct. Persuaded consent to anything is not consent.” 

Rhodey nodded, and looked back to Tony. “You’ve talked about protection? Shown him how to use a condom?”

Tony pulled a face. “What do you mean _shown_ him?”

“With a banana, you dipshit”

“I really don’t think that’s necessary-” Peter cut in, only to be cut off himself. 

“Oh, of course! I’ll be right back.”

The teenager let out a strangled whine and curled in on himself when Tony hurried away to fetch the items. Rhodey turned back to Peter with an amused smirk.

“I don’t like you anymore,” the boy declared childishly. 

“You gotta know this stuff, kid,” he replied innocently.

“What if I ran away? Like right now.”

“Then he would go after you in the suit and make sure the entire city hears it.”

“Aw, fuck.”

“I’m back!” Tony announced happily, returning to his spot on the couch and handing Rhodey the banana. “Hold it- there you go.” He held the banana up while Tony tore open the condom wrapper and discarded it to the side. When he started rolling it onto the fruit, Peter rolled off the couch in despair, landing on the ground with a loud thud.

“I just wanna make sure you’re prepared, Pete,” Tony said calmly.

“I _am_ prepared, Tony, and I was when I _had_ sex.”

There was a ringing silence that was only broken by the thud of the half-covered banana hitting the floor.

“I’m flattered by the shock, I truly am.”

“I’m not- I just- … _Rhodey_?” he looked to the man helplessly.

“What do you want me to say, man? I wasn’t expecting that either.”

“Thanks,” Peter replied dryly.

“But… who? And _when_?”

Peter finally lifted his head to look at the two men.

“Do you _really_ want me to answer that?”

“Uh, I don’t think so? I gotta admit, I’m kind of curious, but I also don’t want to know… Does May know?” 

“Yeah… it wasn’t really intentional, though.”

Tony’s eyes widened. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

“Wait, what? No, that’s not- she didn’t- I _told_ her.”

“You unintentionally told her? How does that happen?” Rhodey sniggered.

“I don’t do well with hiding stuff like that. I did the same thing the first time I watched porn - I kinda just blurted it out, I couldn’t really stop myself. She couldn’t stop me either.”

Peter burned red when Rhodey and Tony both burst into laughter.

“Yeah, I know, shut up.”

Tony looked at him fondly. “God, I love you, kid.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So originally for this chapter, all I had planned was from when Tony said that going to college meant you could reinvent yourself onwards but then ‘Peter acting weird’ kinda became a much bigger thing and suddenly I’m making Tony fear for Peter’s life. Whoops.


	3. Still I See You, Celestial

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony watched as they treated and covered his burns and cuts. Watched as they tried to remove the metal, only to end up having to tediously cut it from the muscle that had started to heal around it. Watched as the blood pooled, despite the attempts to put pressure on the wound and prevent the flow. 
> 
> Then Peter’s heart stopped and, for a moment, Tony thought his had too.

Tony was in the lab when he got the alert. Music was blasting through the room as he hunched over a circuit board when his phone screen flashed with the notification that the integrity of Peter’s suit had been compromised, and that the main graphical processing unit of its AI had been damaged, rendering her useless. 

“FRI? Baby monitor,” he frowned, putting down his tools and turning to his computer.

The screen lit up with a live feed from Peter’s suit, and Tony swore under his breath when he saw a haze of fire. The boy was staggering through the burning building, coughing and panting with arm around a young woman who was struggling to stay upright. Within seconds, Tony was in one of his suits, the feed now coming through in front of his eyes as he took off from the tower, speeding through the air towards the blinking red dot on the map.

Tony watched as Peter managed to get the woman to a window and not-so-gracefully swung them down to the ground where a crowd of people where watching anxiously. He let out a breath of relief once the boy was out of the building, only to swear again when Peter then looked back up at the building and scaled the wall, scrambling towards an open window.

“FRI, patch me through,” he ordered.

“Mister Stark?” Peter’s raspy voice spoke up.

“Kid, you gotta get out of there,” he said, approaching the building.

“I gotta make sure everyone’s out,” he coughed, racing through the building, dodging falling debris. 

“FRIDAY, are there any people left in the building?” Tony asked, eyes darting over the information the AI presented. 

_“No, Boss.”_

“Everyone’s out, Spidey, you can come out now.”

“Okay, Mister-“ Peter cut himself off abruptly. “Wait, I hear something.”

 _“The main structural support system of building has been compromised and will likely collapse at any minute,”_ FRIDAY supplied.

“Fuck, kiddo, you gotta get out, it’s about to collapse.”

“No, Mister Stark, there’s someone else here, I can hear it-“

“FRIDAY’s scanned the building, it’s clear,” he interrupted harshly. “Now get the fuck out of that building right now.”

“No, Mister Stark, I can _hear_ something!” Peter insisted frantically.

“Kid,” Tony spoke sharply, preparing to go in there and drag his stubborn ass out of that building. “I’m not fucking around. It’s clear and about to collapse - you _need to get out_.”

“Just a minute, I gotta-“

Peter voice was cut off by a series of creaking, cracking and clashing as the building crumbled, and with it, Tony’s face. The man let out a strangled cry and dove into the ablaze rubble, not paying any mind to the sweltering heat the fire produced. 

He almost vomited when he reached the boy. He was lying on the floor, his head turned away from him… and a metal rod pierced through his abdomen, blood pooling around him. The cherry on top was the small bundle of fur tucked under his protective arm, looking around anxiously and meowing loudly. All this for a fucking _cat_. 

“FRI?”

“The object has not pierced any vital organs, however, Mister Parker is losing blood rapidly,” the AI reported.

Tony knew he couldn’t just pull the rod out if he didn’t want Peter to bleed out in seconds, but he had to move him and fast. He crouched down, absentmindedly taking note of Peter’s ragged breaths, and used a laser to cut the rod a few inches away from his skin, throwing the excess aside. A small part of him was grateful he was unconscious, because he was sure that the pain he would be experiencing would be excruciating.

Tony glanced at the terrified cat and let a small huff before grabbing it by the scruff of its neck and placing it on his shoulder, where it clung desperately, sliding around on the metal. He then gently scooped Peter’s limp body up and brought them to the crowd, where he unceremoniously shoved the cat in some kid’s arms and took off towards the tower, already barking orders at FRIDAY to alert Helen Cho and preparea team for surgery.

He couldn’t help but glance over Peter’s body as they flew, taking in the burns and bloody tears in the suit. The eyes of the mask that were usually white were grey with ash and dirt, and Tony struggled with Peter in his arms for a moment while he pulled the mask up over his mouth and nose so he could breathe easier.

When he landed on the balcony of the tower, he stepped out of the suit and ran into the Medbay, where Helen was pulling on a pair of gloves. Before he could say anything, the team of doctors had swarmed them, gently transferring Peter’s body to an operating table and rushing him into theater to perform surgery. Tony followed right behind them, unable to take his eyes of the boy, who was getting paler by the second.

He was stopped abruptly by Helen’s hand on his chest, her expression determined.

“You can’t go in there, Stark. You have to let us help him now. You can watch if you really insist,” she offered, gesturing to the window into the operating theater, “but… I really would advise against it.”

Tony wanted to argue, to demand that he hold his kid’s hand through the surgery, to tell her to get fucked because he wasn’t going to fail Peter again. But he knew, logically, that acting out would only cause problems, and frankly, he didn’t have the energy or capacity to fight one of the only people who could help Peter now. So he simply shot a helpless look over her shoulder at the team of doctors peeling the suit off of him and pulling out various medical instruments.

“Is… is he going to be okay?” he asked desperately.

Helen looked at him sympathetically. “You know I can’t promise that.”

Tony couldn’t think straight, only stare blankly at Peter as the doctor turned into the room, the door sliding shut behind her as she started directing everyone about. He stumbled slightly over to the window and leant against it to steady himself.

“Tony?” Pepper breathed, running up to him and pulling him into a tight hug. “How is he?”

The man just shook his head, not trusting himself to use his voice. She pulled away and placed a hand on his cheek, brushing her thumb against his skin comfortingly. Her hand found his and squeezed it tightly as they turned to watch the scene play out in front of them. 

Tony watched as they treated and covered his burns and cuts. Watched as they tried to remove the metal, only to end up having to tediously cut it from the muscle that had started to heal around it. Watched as the blood pooled, despite the attempts to put pressure on the wound and prevent the flow.

Then Peter’s heart stopped and, for a moment, Tony thought his had too.

He couldn’t do anything but stare in pure horror at the straight line on the heart monitor, alarms blaring in his ears. His knees gave out underneath him and he placed his hands over his mouth, eyes burning with tears, chest heaving with sobs that he wouldn’t let escape him. He could faintly feel Pepper’s arms around him, her fingers weaving into his hair, could vaguely hear her voice… but he couldn’t concentrate on any of that. Only the lifeless child in front of his eyes.

Peter was dead. His kid was _dead_. And all he could do was watch his entire body jolt with each dose of electric current they forced through his chest, desperately trying to get his stupidly oversized heart started again. When was the last time he’d told Peter loved him? He sure as fuck didn’t say it as often as he should have. Had Peter died not knowing how much he really meant to Tony? Of course he had, because Tony never _did_ tell him. Sure, he’d said ‘I love you’, but that hardly encompassed everything he felt for the boy who had stubbornly wiggled his way into Tony’s heart.

Peter was the most selfless person Tony had ever met. He was so kind, generous and _good_ and had so much potential. But now he was gone, and Tony wouldn’t get to see him off on his first date, or graduate high school, or go to college, or get married-

Tony froze when a steady beeping met his ears. It was the most beautiful sound he’d ever heard. He staggered to his feet, trembling hands pressed against the glass, staring at the pulsing heart monitor in overwhelming relief.Realising that his world had started moving again, Tony collapsed into a chair with Pepper by his side, and watched them complete the procedure. At some point, May arrived, having left work early when Pepper had informed her of what happened. Tony expected her to yell at him, to hit him, to refuse to look at him. But instead, she had _hugged_ him, and sat down beside him without a word, staring anxiously at her nephew.

Helen was the first to come out, and informed them that Peter was now stable and would make a full recovery, and proceeded to list the full list of injuries and told them she’d be around if they needed anything.

May was the first to go in once Peter had been transferred to a recovery room, and Tony insisted she have some time alone with him. Although it came across as him being polite to May, in truth, he was just hesitant to go in, despite how desperate he had been to be with Peter before. Maybe it was because he’d realised how terrifyingly _mortal_ Peter was, or because a part of him still didn’t believe that this was real - that this was a figment of his imagination he’d come up with to cope with the fact that he really _was_ dead. Or maybe it was to do with the crippling guilt because why did he waste time telling Peter to get out when he could have just dragged him out? When had Peter ever been one to listen in situations like that? If only Tony had gotten there faster, if he had built the suit better, if he had-

“Stop it,” Pepper said softly, pulling him from his thoughts. She was gazing at him intently, waiting for him to actually step into the room. “I can practically see you stewing in self-loathing, but none of this is your fault. And don’t even try to argue with me.”

“I just… I always feel like I could be doing better, I feel like I could have _done_ better,” he replied pathetically.

“You did everything in your power to keep Peter safe-“

“But it wasn’t enough, was it?”

“Tony,” she sighed exasperatedly, “if you weren’t there, he would have died in that fire. You got him out in time so he could be saved.”

Pepper drew him into a soft, sweet kiss, and gently guided him into the room.

Peter was connected to an array of machines, and had an endotracheal tube coming out of his mouth. His dirty face was still pale, but had regained colour since Tony brought him in, and was covered in bandages, yet he still looked incredibly peaceful. May was curled up in the chair beside his bed, clutching his hand in her own. The woman gave him a small smile and gestured to the chair on his other side. Tony rested a hand over Peter’s free hand, before letting out a sigh and taking a seat. Now that he was here, he didn’t want to leave in case something happened, he needed to make sure he was safe  ~~ and alive ~~ . He took comfort in the steady beeping of his heart monitor, unable to keep the echoes of the flatline alarm out of his mind.

Tony reached forward to take Peter’s wrist and feel his pulse underneath his fingertips. Just to make sure. And when he made eye contact with May, he pretended not to notice the knowing look in her eye. At some point, May had reluctantly gone to bed as she had to get up early for a double shift the next day and needed to make sure she was well-rested, despite being tempted to call in sick.

Throughout the night, Tony stayed there, persistently refusing Pepper’s pleas to eat and drink and sleep. Even when she brought down a tray of food and a glass of water, along with a pillow, he refused to move. Instead, he tapped away at his StarkPad, jotting down ideas to better the suit in terms of puncture resistance, flame retardation, smoke filtration… maybe an in-suit defibrillator? At about 3am, Tony decided that Peter’s face really needed to be cleaned, because it was still covered ash and dirt and that wouldn’t do. So he got a cloth and some lukewarm water and gently started wiping the grime off Peter’s face, soothed by the youth it restored.

The man then returned to his position of one hand on Peter’s pulse and the other typing one-handedly on the screen. By now, the rhythm and tempo of his heartbeat was ingrained in his mind, and that, along with the steady beeping and sound of Peter’s assisted breaths, eventually lulled him to sleep.

Tony awoke late the next morning to Helen checking over Peter and swapping out the drip. He noticed the tube was gone, replaced by a cannula, and wondered when that had happened.

“He’ll most likely wake up in the next few hours,” she spoke up, realising he was awake. “He’ll be in and out for a while, though. I’m amazed at his healing, even for an enhanced. I’ve never seen anything like it. He’s a very lucky young man.”

At first, he thought she meant Peter was lucky to have his powers, but then the real implication of her words sunk in and he swallowed. If it weren’t for his healing, he may have been dead by the time Tony got to him, unable to be saved. He would have died for sure.

 _He did die_ , some voice in the back of his mind supplied.

About an hour later, Peter stirred and was conscious for approximately fifty hazy-as-fuck seconds before passing out again. He woke up a couple more times with slightly better results, however it wasn’t until a bit after 2pm that he fully regained consciousness. His eyes blearily blinked open and trailed around the room, landing on Tony, who offered him a glass of water without saying anything. Peter gratefully took a few sips and looked at Tony anxiously.

“Is everyone okay?” he croaked.

It seemed that during all that time, Tony had plenty of time to churn his anxiety and fear into anger and frustration. He wanted to explode, wanted to demand why Peter didn’t follow his order because despite all the guilt he carried, it was still easier to lash out.

“You mean everyone aside from you?” he asked bitterly. “Yeah. Even that fucking cat.”

Peter’s lips pressed together and Tony knew he hadn’t masked his frustration nearly as well as he’d hoped. He also knew that he’d struggle to not snap at Peter, and decided that it’d be better for both of them if he just got himself out of there.

“I’ve got to go take care of some SI stuff,” he said abruptly, getting to his feet. “I’m… I’m glad you’re okay, kid,” he added at the slightly hurt expression on Peter’s face.

He glanced at him one last time before walking out of the room and taking the elevator back up to his floor. Pepper wouldn’t be back from her meeting for another couple of hours, so Tony busied himself with making coffee, responding to emails and working more on his designs for a new suit for Peter.

Maybe rewatching the footage from the incident over and over wasn’t the best idea, but Tony needed to analyse everything he could to make sure he wasn’t missing anything. So over and over again, he watched Peter stumble through the haze of fire, watched him fall through the floor, watched the broken curtain rod pierce through his body.

He started preparing designs for a fabric that was _completely_ fireproof and was much more resistant to tearing. It would be hard to balance that with making sure it was still comfortable and easy to move in but he would make sure it worked. He improved the protection around Karen’s GPU so Peter wouldn’t be left without her again. He made plans for adding a filter in mask so that Peter wouldn’t have to suffer the consequences of smoke inhalation again - he hated the sight of the ugly tube coming out Peter’s mouth and the implication that he couldn’t breathe on his own that came with it.

“Hey,” Pepper smiled at Tony as she walked in, pausing to take her heels off. “FRIDAY said Peter’s awake, how is he?”

“Uh, okay,” he replied distractedly, eyes still trained on the screen when she came up and placed a kiss on his head.

She pulled away and stared at him for a moment, eyes narrowed slightly as they went between the screen and Tony’s tired face. “How long have you been up here?”

“Um, about two hours.”

“And how long has Peter been awake?”

Tony hesitated in shame. “About two hours.”

“You’re hiding from him,” Pepper responded flatly, folding her arms.

“I’m not hiding,” he scowled. “He disobeyed a direct order and almost - no wait, sorry - _did_ die.”

“I know you’re angry, Tony, but you need to go down there and talk to that poor boy, because he can’t be alone right now. I don’t care if you’re mad at him, you need to swallow your pride and make sure he’s okay.”

“He _died_ , Pep, because I wasn’t good enough. He’s better off without me.”

“Okay, so let me run this situation past you - Peter is in that burning building, but you’re not there so he bleeds out or- or burns to death. Is that what you mean by better off?”

“He wouldn’t have been in there if I never got involved.”

“That’s bullshit,” she said calmly. “That whole fiasco on moving day with that vulture guy showed that no matter if you never met him, he would still have been in that building. But he wouldn’t have the suit and probably would have died before he could get even half those people out. When will you get it through your head that he needs you? I know that you’d move heaven and earth for Peter-“

“But _he_ doesn’t know that,” Tony interrupted quietly. “He- he could have died and he wouldn’t have known how much I-“ he cut himself off and Pepper took a deep, steadying breath.

“So you hide up here? Is _this_ you showing how much you care about him? By hiding when he needs you most? You’re right, Peter could have died on that table without knowing what he means to you, but he came back and now you have the chance to tell him and you’re abandoning him! God, Tony you’re a dumbass sometimes. Get your ass down there and _talk_ to him.”

Tony buried his face in his hands. “Fuck, you’re right. What am I _doing_?”

Pepper pursed her lips and ran her fingers through his hair. “It’s going to be fine, honey.”

He nodded and pulled her into a tight hug, then pulled away and kissed her softly. “Thank you.”

When Tony arrived outside of Peter’s room, he hesitated for a moment before walking in. Peter was staring at the television, but looked over at him with an unreadable expression when he entered.

“Hey, Mister Stark,” he greeted softly, voice still hoarse.

“Are you sure you’re supposed to be sitting up already?”

Peter frowned slightly, glancing down at himself or a moment before meeting Tony’s eyes again. “Yeah, it’s fine.”

Tony couldn’t help the childish ‘hmph’ that escaped him at the word ‘fine’, because things were not fine by any standard.

Peter’s gaze dropped and his hands fidgeted. “I’m sorry, Mr Stark, I know I should have gotten out when you told me, but I heard something and I thought there was someone else inside.”

Tony was well aware that you shouldn’t bottle up your emotions, because that never ends well. But it was hard to avoid it when you didn’t even realise you were doing it. He never did until it was too late, and now was one of those times.

"That ‘something’ was just a fucking cat, Peter. And I _told_ you to get out and you didn’t listen to me!”

Peter scowled. “Because I thought there was another person trapped in the burning building, _forgive me_.”

“Don’t take that tone with me, I _told_ you it was clear!”

“Well, it _wasn’t_ ,” he replied petulantly.

“Four-legged creatures don’t count.”

“Well, that’s rude,” he muttered.

“Are you _fucking_ kidding me?!” Tony burst. "I know you have the urge to protect every living thing on the _planet_ , but you can’t risk your life for a fucking _pet_ , Peter.”

“I didn’t _know_ it was a cat, okay?” Peter defended, his lip wobbling. Tony’s face softened slightly, beginning to think he was being too harsh. “I don’t regret it, though,” he added stubbornly. And Tony exploded.

“You would have died if you weren’t _you_ , do you not realise that?” he snapped.

“Yeah, well, right now I’m beginning to wish I wasn’t,” he mumbled angrily.

_“What did you just say?”_

Peter just glared at him.

“You disobeyed a direct order-!“

“I don’t care!” he interrupted defiantly, swinging his legs around over the bed to face Tony. “Do you not realise _that_? I got those people out, that’s all that matters.”

“NO, ITS NOT!” Tony yelled. “ _YOU_ MATTER, PETER. _Jesus Christ_ , I got in there and saw you lying unconscious and bleeding, I thought you were-“ he cut himself off and took a deep breath. “Fuck, Pete, you gotta look after yourself sometimes.”

“Like you?” he replied coolly.

“I don’t _want_ you to be like me! Can’t you get that through your thick skull?”

“Yeah, I get it, Mister Stark, you want me to be better… but I saved all those people and I’m fine, I don’t see-“

“YOU’RE NOT _FINE!_ ” he roared. “YOU _DIED_ ON THE TABLE WHILE I COULDN’T DO ANYTHING BUT WATCH. DO YOU HAVE _ANY_ IDEA HOW THAT FEELS?”

This was clearly news to Peter, who’s face dropped at hearing he had died. At the last sentence, however, he glared harshly at Tony and stood up furiously.

“I KNOW _EXACTLY_ HOW THAT FEELS!” he shouted, jabbing a finger at Tony. “I watched uncle Ben bleed out in front of me and it was _all_ my fault! _That's_ why I have to do this! I don’t want anyone else to _die_ because _I_ failed!” 

Well, that was annoyingly familiar. 

“You can’t save _everyone_ , kid!” Tony argued. “And I get it, you can’t let go, but _I_ can’t let go of _you_. I can’t lose you, Peter. What happened with Ben sucks horse shit, and if you could go back in time and prevent that happening you would, wouldn’t you?”

Peter stepped back in offence. “What kind of _question_ is that? Of _course,_ I would!”

“Then can’t you see that this is why _I’m_ doing _this_?” Tony begged. “I’m just trying to protect you. If I tell you to get out, you _need_ to get out. You barely came out alive and I can’t do that again, I _can’t_. And you won’t always be that lucky. If you keep pulling shit like that, one day you’re gonna- and I can’t-“

Sometimes, Tony could feel pain attacks slowly tugging at him, drawing him under like quicksand. But this one seemed to snatch him, plunging him under the icy water with no warning.

“Mister Stark?” Peter spoke up, eyes watching him anxiously. “Mister Stark, you gotta breathe,” he pleaded, guiding the man into the chair and crouching in front of him. “C’mon, deep breaths, follow me.”

It took a few minutes to bring the man back down, and when he did, he stared fixedly on Peter in front of him and reached out to gently take his wrist to feel his pulse again. The boy glanced down at his wrist in confusion, but his expression softened when Tony turned it over and placed his fingers over his pulse point.

“I-I’m okay, I’m right here,” he whispered, guilt crashing over him in waves at the fact that he had caused this. “I’m sorry, Mr Stark, I’m _so_ sorry.”

Tony shook his head and let go of Peter’s wrist. “No, kiddo, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have yelled at you. That was… I hated how my dad acted and yet here I am screaming at you.”

“I was being selfish.”

Tony barked out a shaky laugh. “Kid, you are anything _but_ selfish. You’re terrifyingly selfless. You’re so _good_ , Pete. You’re too good and it scares me because I know you’d risk your life over and over for random strangers, which is unbelievably heroic but I still hate it.”

“I know you do... I’m sorry for not considering your feelings. I was so wrapped up in thinking about Ben, I didn’t consider what you were going through. I guess sometimes it’s just hard to think that... never mind.”

Peter looked away, biting his lip and Tony frowned.

“Nuh-uh, none of that. What were you gonna say?”

“I just... I know that you say you love me, but…”

“You don’t think I really love you?” he asked weakly, feeling his self-hate coil a little tighter around him.

“No. I- I know you do l, but sometimes…” Peter trailed off and Tony’s heart clenched when he realised what he was struggling to say.

“Anxiety tells you I don’t?”

He nodded, still not looking at Tony. “It... it makes it easier, when I’m in situations like that, to think that I’m not important to people.”

Tony swallowed and leant forward to place a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Oh, bud. I’ve been there, done that. But trust me, I’ve learnt that it’s better to keep the important people in your life in your mind because it gives you an incentive to make it back home. If you go into missions thinking you don’t matter you won’t try nearly as hard as if you know you’ve got someone waiting at home for you. And you have ‘em, kid. You’ve got May, Ned, that scary girl you like... Pepper, Rhodey and Happy all love you, even if Happy pretends not to. And _I_ love you, kid, so damn much it scares me. When… God, when you flatlined during surgery, I- I couldn’t breathe, I… couldn’t stop thinking about how you had died not knowing truly how much you mean to me. I don’t tell you I love you enough and it’s something I’m trying to work on-“

“It’s okay, Mister Stark,” Peter interrupted softly.

“It’s not. It’s _not_ ,” Tony shook his head insistently. “Pete, you’re… you’re like a- you’re like my- my-“

“I know,” he said, giving the man a small smile. “You don’t have to say it, I get it. I know that you're not a very affectionate person, but that's not a flaw.”

He shook his head frustratedly. “ _No_ , kid, I _want_ to say it. You’re like a- a son to me. I care about you more than I ever thought I would and I love you more than you can imagine. And I’m so sorry for getting so angry at you, it was just- it was just my fear twisting out of control and pouring out in an ugly fit. I’m really proud of you, Pete. I am. I admire you so much. But you _gotta_ stop being reckless, okay? If I tell you to do something, it’s for a reason. I _can’t_ let anything happen to you, Pete. You’re way too important.”

“Okay, I’ll try,” Peter promised. “And I love you too, by the way. Ben was the closest thing I had to a father after my parents died and then- and then all _that_ happened now that’s- that’s you.”

“Underoos, I- fuck, did you pull a stitch?” Tony stared at the growing red stain on the bandage around his abdomen in panic. “FRI, get Helen.”

“Huh, guess I did,” he replied nonchalantly. “Is that bad?”

“ _Yes_ , it’s bad! You need your blood _inside_ your body.”

“Wow, they really don’t call you a genius for nothing."

“Oh, shut up.”

“Why are you out of bed?” Helen demanded, storming into the room and pushing Peter back onto the bed.

“His fault,” Peter grinned, pointing at Tony while the doctor just rolled her eyes and got out a small kit to restitch the wound.

“You were the one who felt the need to stand up suddenly to make a point, you drama queen.”

Both Peter and Helen paused to look at the billionaire with raised eyebrows.

“Right, pot kettle,” he murmured, scratching his goatee.

“What can I say?” Peter grinned. “I take after you.”

“You’re a little shit.”

“Also you.”

Tony reached across and flicked him on the nose, causing him to jerk away and laugh.

“ _Dude_.”

“Don’t ‘dude’ me, young man.”

“Okay, _dad,"_ Peter teased. 

“You’re grounded ’til you’re thirty.”

“I don’t even live here!”

 


	4. I Can't Change (Even If I Tried)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “But the rest aren’t all left-handed. There’s some that are… ambidextrous, or- or even dextrous with their feet as well and stuff. And then there’s people that- that don’t have hands.” The last part came out like a question, as though he wasn’t really sure of what he was saying. 
> 
> “Sure, bud.”
> 
> OR, Peter confuses the heck out of Tony trying to come out with an analogy.

“Hey, Mister Stark, you’re right-handed aren’t you?”

Tony glanced up from the repulsor he was working on to look at Peter, who was sitting at his desk in the lab, watching Tony with an unreadable expression on his face, waiting for his reply.

“Uh, yeah, kid. Why’s that?”

Peter glanced down at his hands and bit his lip in thought. “Most people are.”

“About ninety percent, I think,” Tony nodded. He wasn’t sure what was going through his head, but he knew that Peter was going somewhere with this, that he’d just have to be patient.

“But the rest aren’t all left-handed. There’s some that are… ambidextrous, or- or even dextrous with their feet as well and stuff. And then there’s people that- that don’t have hands.” The last part came out like a question, as though he wasn’t really sure of what he was saying.

“Sure, bud.”

“And a lot of right-handed people think left-handed people are weird, and a lot of things aren’t set up for left-handed people. Like scissors and stuff. It’s like the default is right-handed. And ambidextrous people can usually get around that because they can use their right hand, but some people have varying levels of dexterity and if they’re more left-dominant than it’d still be annoying.”

“I hadn’t really thought about it, but yeah,” he shrugged.

“But the thing is, some people find ambidextrous less weird because they can at least use their right hand, but some find them more weird because how can you use both, right?”

Tony just nodded. Peter still wasn’t looking at him, his eyes were somewhere in the distance, lost in his head.

“So you’re not ambidextrous at all?”

Tony tilted his head in thought. “Well, I mean, there’s some things I prefer to do with my left hand in regards to tools and stuff, but usually that’s because I need my right hand for whatever else I’m holding. It’s definitely dominant, if that’s what you mean.”

Peter’s gaze shifted to look at Tony, and stared at him searchingly for a moment. “Do you think people who are ambidextrous are weird?”

Tony was beginning to grow impatient with the weird questions and just wanted Peter to get to the point. Nonetheless, he gave Pete a small smile and answered calmly, “No. I’d actually find it really helpful being dominant in both.”

“But then some people would think you’re weird.”

“I mean… it’s really not _that_ weird.” he replied in confusion. “Besides, I don’t think people care all that much about hand dexterity.”

Peter let out a small huff of frustration and tugged at his hair. Tony frowned, stood up to move around the desks and planted himself into the chair directly opposite him. “What’s going on, Underoos? What’s with all the weird questions? I thought you were right-handed?”

“I am.”

Tony wanted to scream. “So… what’s going through your head then? Why the sudden interest in hands?”

Peter bit the inside of his cheek and stared down at the pen he was fiddling with in contemplation. The seconds dragged on, but eventually he let out a heavy sigh and met Tony’s eyes.

“I’m bi.”

Tony blinked. “Oh. _Oh_. That’s what all that was about? Kid, that was cryptic as fuck.”

Peter looked away sheepishly. “Sorry, I just find it easier to explain myself with analogies sometimes, but that… that probably wasn’t the best analogy.”

“God, kiddo, don’t apologise. And no, that was great, I was just confused,” he let out a laugh. “Although I’m still confused about the foot dexterity and the no hands thing.”

“Just ignore that,” Peter muttered. “I was trying to- never mind.”

“So… bi, huh?” Tony knew he was being awkward as fuck, but he wasn’t sure how to react because he didn’t give a shit who Peter was into, as long as he was happy. He wasn’t sure if Peter wanted him to make it a big deal or if that was exactly the opposite of what he wanted. He didn’t know if he was supposed to give the spiel about accepting him no matter what or if that would just make Peter wonder why he wouldn’t.

Peter just nodded, a very slight blush dusting his cheeks.

“How long have you known?”

“Um, like two years?”

“Who else knows?”

Peter bit his lip. “I told May last week.”

Tony raised his eyebrows in shock. “You’ve had this secret for _two years?_ Oh, _kid_.”

“It’s not- it’s not what you think,” he shook his head quickly, his expression changing to a resolved confidence. “I knew that May wouldn’t care, neither would any of my friends and I knew that you wouldn’t either. I just… I actually kind of liked it? Being a secret, that is. It was _mine,_ you know? And no one else’s. It felt like it was something I owned and I had full control of. And- and I’m comfortable with it. I wasn’t initially… but I am now and because of that and the knowledge that the people I care about wouldn’t care, I kind of felt out of the closet, even if I wasn't... is this making any sense?”

Tony could tell that Peter was frustrated with himself at not being able to express what he was trying to say, but he was pretty sure he got what he was trying to get across. He leant his elbows on the desk and offered him a reassuring smile.

“Yeah, Pete, I think so. But… if you knew I’d be okay with it, why did you ask if I thought ambidextrous people are weird?”

“Well, deep down I knew, but ‘cause it’d been a secret for so long I pretty nervous about letting it go and… I had to make sure.”

“That’s understandable,” Tony said slowly. “You don’t have to answer this but… what did you mean you weren’t initially comfortable with it? For how long?”

“Uh… probably about the first five months or so after I realised, I hated it,” Peter admitted, wringing is hands together. “I still don’t exactly know why, because May isn’t homophobic at all or anything like that, and I knew there wasn’t anything _wrong_ with it. I just… I felt like a stranger to myself? Because I spent the first fifteen years of my life with a certain perception of myself and then when I realised I was bi, it felt like everything had changed. And it hadn’t - it’s just a part of me, it doesn’t define me. But I was still angry because even though I knew everyone I care about would accept me, I knew that other people wouldn’t. And I guess I was scared of what it would mean for me, in terms of how others saw me and… and I’ve always wanted a family, Mr Stark. But if I fell in love with a guy, then…”

“You can still have a family,” Tony frowned. “Even if you have a kid that isn’t yours, it doesn’t make them any less your child.” 

Yikes, that was a little too real. 

“I know that now,” Peter nodded calmly, before smiling. “And in any case, I don’t need to worry about that ‘cause I’m gonna die alone.”

“ _Pete_ ,” Tony groaned. “We talked about this.”

“Yeah, yeah, ‘ _no more self-deprecating jokes’_ , but it’s part of my brand, Mr Stark.”

He just looked at him incredulously.

“Besides, like _you_ can talk.”

“Hey, I balance it out with arrogance and narcissism.” Tony defended, leaning back to fold his arms over his chest. “I don’t think I’ve heard you compliment yourself _once_.”

“Yeah, well, moving on - one day I just kind of embraced it. You’d think it would be gradual but one day I just had this epiphany and I was like ‘I’m bi and ready to die and that’s fine’.”

“Yeah, the _first_ part.”

“Casual suicidal comments are also part of my brand.”

“Jesus Christ.”

Peter just shot him an innocent smile.

“If you’ve kept this a secret for so long, can I ask, why now?”

“I guess I was just getting sick of it. I don’t want to watch what I say anymore and… I want to be able to talk about… that stuff.”

The thought of Peter talking to Tony about his love life - that he would feel comfortable discussing that with him brought a weird sense of warmth in his chest. Peter wasn’t _his_ \- not by a long shot. But he had come to accept the fact that he was Peter’s, that he would do anything in his power to protect the boy that he considered a son. Not that he would tell Peter that, though. He didn’t want to pretend to be someone he wasn’t, and he knew he was just a mentor. Which is why is surprised him so much to hear Peter imply that he would share that sort of personal information with him. It was too… _parental_ and he wondered if he had completely misread their relationship. His shock must have shown on his face because Peter, obviously taking it the wrong way, blushed and nervously ducked his head.

“To- to May. You don’t- you don’t have to hear about th-that.”

“No, that’s not…” Tony let out a small sigh. “Kid, it’s not that I don’t want to hear about your love life, I’m just surprised that you would _want_ to talk to me about it.”

Peter blinked in surprise and looked up at him. “O-oh. Okay then.”

He had that contemplative look on his face again and Tony leant forward, resting his elbows on the desk. “Is there something you wanna tell me, Underoos?”

The immediate blush that came over the boy’s face answered his question and his lips quirked up in amusement. “I, uh… I may have a date this weekend,” he mumbled.

Tony grinned broadly. “Oh really?”

“Yeah,” Peter shrugged, clearly attempting to be casual about it, but failing miserably. He was over the moon and it was adorably obvious.

“Look at you, all grown up. What’s their name?”

“I’m not telling you, otherwise you’ll just look him up,” he argued.

“Aha, so it’s a him. That narrows down the search.”

Peter’s eyes twinkled as he laughed. “There’s a lot of people in New York City, Mister Stark, that doesn’t narrow it down much.”

“Well, at least now I know they live in New York,” Tony pointed out.

“And like I just said, there’s a lot of people that live here.”

“A lot less that go to your school.”

“I never said he goes to my school!”

“Yeah, but you don’t really do much except come here and go to school and given that defensive reaction, I think it’s safe to say he _does._ And given your limited social skills, I’d have to assume that you met him in one of your classes, so I just need to pull up your-“

“Oh my god, Mister Stark, stop!” Peter groaned, slamming his head down on the desk.

Tony just laughed and ruffled his hair. “I’m only teasing you, kiddo - it’s fun. But in all seriousness, you gotta tell me where you’re going and text me every hour so I know he hasn’t hurt you.”

“No! Knowing you, you’ll put on a disguise and stalk us.”

“I would not!” he argued, but Peter just looked at him. “Fine, but at least text me every hour so I know you’re okay, alright? And I know you don’t want to hurt people but if he starts to get handsy-“

“Mr Stark!” Peter wailed in protest, burying his face in his hands. “Fine, I’ll text you, but you gotta swear you won’t track me.” 

“Ugh, fine,” he rolled his eyes dramatically. “But you gotta agree that you’ll call me when you get home and give me all the details. Well… not _all_ the details if things get-“ 

“Please shut up.” 

“Yep, okay.” 

Peter continued to glare at him, but it didn’t last long and an excited smile gradually took over. “I’m going on a date,” he breathed. 

“Yeah, you are, Mr I’m-going-to-die-alone,” Tony grinned, only for his face to fall slightly as panic took over Peter’s.

“Oh shit, what am I gonna wear?!” 

“Alright, calm down, look who you’re talking to.” 

“Oh god, I don’t know how to talk to people, this is going to be a disaster!” 

Peter was beginning to spiral, so Tony quickly grabbed his shoulders and shook them gently. 

“Kiddo, relax, you’ll be fine. Just be yourself.” 

“Nobody wants that,” he moaned. 

Tony grimaced and jabbed Peter harshly in the chest. 

“Ow! What the hell, man?” 

“Cut that out right now. He said yes, didn’t he?” 

“Well… I did. He asked me.” 

“There you go, he asked you. He wants to take _you_ on a date.”

Peter slumped over the desk, crossed his arms on the surface and rested his chin on them, looking up at Tony thoughtfully. “I don’t wanna mess this up.” 

The man gave him a soft smile and ruffled his hair again. “Being yourself landed you this date and it’s gonna carry you through it.” 

The corners of his lips twitched and he sat up. “Thanks, Mister Stark. You know, this is not where I thought this conversation would go.” 

“What did you think would happen?” Tony frowned. 

“I was pretty confident I’d chicken out, to be honest.” 

He rolled his eyes but looked at the teenager fondly. “I’m glad you didn’t, bud.” 

“Yeah… me too.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright so obviously coming out is a very personal and individual thing and no one’s experience is the same. In a lot of coming out fics I read, Peter has internalised homophobia and/or is really scared of what Mr Stark would think and I’m a sucker for that angst but I decided I wanted to do a different take.


	5. 'Cause Sleep Is Not My Friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Since when do you care about anyone?” 
> 
> The words hit Tony like a truck, and he was in such a state of confusion, anger, and hurt that he couldn’t come up with anything to do or say as the teenager stormed out of the lab. He just stood there wondering what on earth he had done.

_“Mister Parker is here, boss.”_

Tony glanced up from the hologram in front of him with a frown. He hadn’t been expecting the boy, and usually when Peter came by unannounced, it wasn’t for a good reason. 

_“I have detected a laceration on his lower abdomen approximately ten centimetres long and one centimetre deep,”_ the AI reported after a moment. 

“Send him in,” Tony sighed. Admittedly, he wasn’t all that concerned by the injury. On the scheme of Peter injuries, this was quite minor.

A few moments later, Peter walked into the lab, mask in hand and a rather half-assed smile on his face. Tony’s eyes immediately found the wound, surrounded by a red blood stain on the suit. 

“Hey, Mister Stark,” the teenager greeted sheepishly. “Sorry to bother you, I was just wondering if there was any chance you could fix the suit? I figured it wouldn’t take too long so I thought I’d just come round.” 

“Pete, you’re bleeding and you really think my primary concern is the suit right now?” 

“Technically the bleeding has stopped, this is all dried blood.” 

“Fantastic,” he replied flatly, patting the bench. “Suit off and hop up. I’m fixing you up first, then the suit.” 

Although seeming a tad embarrassed about only being in his boxers, Peter obediently pulled off the suit and sat on the bench while Tony got the first aid kit. 

“Alright, kid, you start cleaning the wound while I go grab you some clothes,” he instructed, before heading up to Peter’s bedroom and fishing some sweatpants and a hoodie out of is wardrobe. 

By the time he got back to the lab, Peter was wiping off the last of the blood. He immediately took the pants, slid them on and sat back down so Tony could apply an antibiotic ointment. 

“So how did this happen, kiddo?” 

“Some guy with a knife,” Peter answered with a shrug. “Don’t really know what he was trying to achieve, he was just angry and was waving a knife around. I got him, though. Just… he got me first.” 

“He must have been fast if he managed to get you,” Tony commented idly, now unwrapping a bandage. “You couldn’t disarm him from a distance first?” 

“Uh, well, to be honest I probably just wasn’t paying as much attention as I should have been.” 

“You _probably_ weren’t paying attention or you just _weren’t_ paying attention?” 

“I wasn’t,” he admitted. 

Tony took a deep breath and made sure the bandage was on properly before replying. “Look, kid, I get that this is your everyday thing, but knife-wielding crazy people are still dangerous and you need to be focused or you’ll get hurt. And it’s not just about you, if you’re not in the right headspace when you go into these kinds of situations and try to help people, you may do the opposite. There is no point in doing your crime-fighting thing if you’re risking yourself and others in the process by not paying attention.” 

Peter stared down at his lap and guilt gnawed at Tony for being the one to put that expression on his face. 

“You did good, Underoos,” he continued, watching as Peter bit the inside of his cheek. “I’m just saying you need to be responsible with this kind of thing.” 

At that, Peter looked up at him and scowled. It was an expression that Tony had rarely seen on the boy’s face, and even more so directed at him. He was only trying to help the kid and the fact that he had the audacity to _scowl_ at him for it irked him. 

“What? You don’t like being told to be responsible? Then don’t do dumb shit, Peter,” Tony responded bluntly. 

Peter’s jaw clenched. “Don’t give me that- that shit.” 

Tony blinked in surprise at his words and pulled a face. “ _Excuse_ me?”

“Stop- stop nagging me about responsibility, Mister Stark. I fucking get it; with great power, comes great responsibility. But I ever _asked_ for this power!” 

Hearing Peter swear in such a tone was jarring. Then there was also that fact that Tony didn’t even understand what he was saying. 

“Peter, what are you talking about?” 

“You’re not my fucking dad!” he snapped, standing up and pulling on the hoodie. 

“Yeah, I’m aware of that,” Tony scoffed, still reeling from Peter’s sudden anger. Where the hell had it come from? “But believe it or not, I actually give a shit.” 

“You’re not Ben either.” 

“Yeah, I know,” he replied, in a slightly gentler tone. “I’m not trying to replace him or anything, kid, I’m just trying to keep you safe.” 

If anything, this seemed to only make Peter more bitter. “Well, you don’t need to pretend to care about me out of pity, I was perfectly fine before you came along and-“

Okay, that was crossing a fucking line. 

“Is _that_ what you think this is? _Pity_?” 

“Isn’t it?” Peter shot back snarkily. 

“No!” Tony exclaimed in frustration. “For God’s sake, Peter, I care about you.” 

“No, you care about _Spider-Man_ and feel an obligation to care about me as Peter Parker too.” 

“What the _fuck_? Where is this coming from?” he demanded. “I care about _you_.” 

Something was clearly wrong with Peter, Tony had never seen him act this way before. Where Peter had gotten the idea from that Tony didn’t care about him was beyond him. He knew he wasn’t the best at conveying emotions, but he thought he’d made that pretty fucking clear. Apparently not. 

“Since when do you care about _anyone_?” 

The words hit Tony like a truck, and he was in such a state of confusion, anger, and hurt that he couldn’t come up with anything to do or say as the teenager stormed out of the lab. He just stood there wondering what on earth he had done. 

He tried calling Peter, but, as expected, he didn’t answer. The next three days, Tony heard nothing from Peter. He declined his calls and ignored his texts and it was kind of destroying him. This was making him realise just how attached he was to the kid, which only made his current situation more miserable. To make things worse, Pepper was currently in Finland for… he’d forgotten what. But now the person he had relied on to distract him from her absence was ignoring him and it sucked ass. 

On the bright side, he still had Peter’s suit, and although he was initially going to send it back to him as soon as it was fixed, the desperate part of him had rationalised that, by having the suit, Peter would have to talk to him in order to get it back. And maybe holding the suit hostage wasn’t the best way to go but he didn’t really have many options. 

On Thursday night, however, FRIDAY reported sightings of Spider-Man in his original onesie-like getup and Tony wanted to hit himself for not remembering the major lesson held learnt the previous year on moving day about his stubbornness. He immediately had a drone drop off the proper suit, and felt much better on Friday night being able to watch Peter’s vitals and make sure he was still alive during his patrol. 

 

On Saturday morning, the sound of his phone ringing made his hopes rise, only for him to grow confused, yet relieved when he saw May’s contact on the screen. 

“Hey, May,” he answered, trying to sound casual. 

_“Hey, Tony. I’m about to go to work but I need to talk to you. I meant to call you about this a few days ago but it completely slipped my mind with everything else that’s going on, but from the way Peter’s acting, I’ve got a feeling this is a bit late.”_

“Call me about what? What do you mean?” 

_“Don’t tell Peter I’ve talked to you about this, but tomorrow is the two year anniversary of Ben’s death and last year he got really irritable and angry and lashed out a lot… acting really un-Peter-like for about a week leading up to it. I’m not sure how he’s been around you the past week but I thought I’d let you know so if he’s acting really weird, you know what’s going on.”_

“That makes so much sense,” Tony groaned softly, burying his face in his hand. 

_“Why? What’s he done?_ ” May asked in concern. 

“Well, Wednesday night he came to the tower with a cut and he said he was hoping I could fix the tear in the suit. While I was bandaging him up I found out it was from some knife-wielding psycho who got Peter because -I quote - he “probably wasn’t paying as much attention as he should have been”, so I tried to give him a stern but not too harsh talk about being responsible and he blew up at me. He even swore at me, which was just wrong coming from him. He said that I wasn’t his dad or Ben and that I don’t care about him, which is so not true, and then stormed out.” 

“ _Yeesh_ ,” May muttered after a moment. “ _I think he feels guilty.”_

“About what?” 

“ _You_ ,” she replied simply. _“Whether you like it or not, you’re like a father figure to him, Tony, and it would make sense that he’s trying to push you away now out of guilt that he’s betraying Ben or some shit. It’s completely wrong, Ben would just want him to be happy and would want him to have more support in his life, but, well… you know how Peter has a guilt complex the size of the fucking sun.”_

“I’ve tried calling and texting him but he won’t talk to me.” 

_“He just needs time. I know it’s hard but he just needs to feel what he needs to feel so he can move on and then he’ll talk to you when he’s ready. It’ll just make it worse if you try to force him, let him come to you.”_

“Okay,” Tony sighed heavily. “Thank you, May. That was really helpful.” 

_“We gotta work together with this one. Call me if you need anything.”_

“Will do.” 

 

It was actually that night that Peter finally called him, which he hadn’t been expecting. Especially at 1 in the morning.

“Pete?” he spoke up tentatively, wondering what all the indistinguishable background noise was. 

_“Hey, Mis’er Stark,_ ” the boy replied, his tone undecipherable. _“I’ve… I’ve been thinking a lot abou’ Wednesday and I’m really sorry for- for e’rything that I said. I was… I was really mean and you din’t deserve it, I was jus’ really angry and I- I took it out on you and said stuff I din’t mean and that was’n fair.”_

The slur in his speech made Tony’s blood run cold and he swallowed hard. “Peter, are you _drunk_?” 

_“Nah… getting there, though.”_

Hot anger rushed through Tony, wondering how such a genius could be so goddamn stupid. This is exactly what he didn’t want for Peter. So much so that he’d even talked to Peter about his troubled past with alcohol and what it had done to him and why he wanted the kid to stay away from it for as long as possible. Yet here he was, at sixteen, quite obviously drunk, despite apparently not realising it. 

He wanted to yell at Peter, to reach through the phone and shake him by the shoulders. Instead, he fought it down and took a deep, calming breath breath. Getting angry would do nothing to help the situation. Right now, he needed to focus on getting Peter back home safely. 

“Pete, where are you?” 

_“I’m… I’m at a party, Mis’er Stark.”_

“Okay… and where’s the party?” 

_“At… at Flash’s house.”_

_You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,_ Tony thought bitterly. Why Peter had thought it would be a great idea to go a party that his bully was hosting was a hell of a mystery. 

“The kid that harasses you? Jesus Christ, Pete,” he muttered. “Where’s his house?” 

_“Tha’s uh… tha’s a good question,”_ he answered with a giggle. 

Tony clenched his jaw and turned to his screen. “Peter, I’m tracking your phone and I’m coming to get you, okay?” 

_“Wha? No Mis’r Stark, ‘m havin’ fun. You don’t needa pick me up, I was jus’ callin’ to apogo-… apologise ‘cause I was actin’ like a real meanie and tha’ waz'n fair to you and I’m- I’m really sorry, sir. Like really, really sorry.”_

“I know, Pete, I know. But you’re clearly very drunk and it’s time for you to come home.” 

_“Nah, nah, i’s okay, I got a suuuuper fast mebat-… metabo- … metabolism.”_

“Which is why I’m so concerned,” Tony pointed out, volume rising. “How much have you had to drink?!” 

_“Um…”_ he struggled for a moment before letting out a quiet grunt. “ _Eight_.” 

“Eight? Eight what? Eight standard drinks? Eight beers?”

_“Eight,”_ he repeated with a slight groan. 

“FRI, what’s his BAC?” he demanded. 

_“Peter’s blood alcohol concentration is currently at zero point two percent, sir.”_

Tony swore and moved even faster towards his car, not even bothering with the seatbelt before he took off, speed limits be damned. He wasn’t setting a great example, but it’d be difficult to set a good example for Peter if the stupid kid had drank himself to death by the time he got there. 

“Peter, your metabolism is clearly not going anything for your right now. You’re drunk and I’m coming to get you. Where are you right now?” 

_“In Flash’s house. I told you Mis’r Stark, you silly billy.”_

“Where _in_ Flash’s house?” Tony questioned, patience growing thin. 

_“I’m… I’m outside. Lying in the backyard. The grass is real nice, Mis’r Stark. You should get some for your tower. It’s like the earth is gonna swallow me up, how funny would tha’ be?”_

“Why would that be _funny?_ ” 

“ _Dunno_ ,” Peter giggled. 

“Have you thrown up at all?” 

_“Nah, I feel_ ** _fine_** _, real good.”_

“I’m sure you do,” he mumbled under his breath. “That’s good, Pete, just stay where you are, don’t move, I’ll be there soon, okay?” 

_“Okay, Mis’r Stark._ ” 

“Just stay on the li-“ 

The call ended before he could finish and Tony’s knuckles turned white on the steering wheel. “FRIDAY, call Peter back.” 

Peter didn’t pick up, nor did he pick up the next six times Tony tried to call him. Panic was rising rapidly inside him and the moment he pulled up outside the house FRIDAY had directed him to, he was out of the car and hurrying inside the house. Shitty music was blaring, lights were flashing and the place was crowded with teenagers dancing and drinking and making out. The heavy stench of alcohol hung around and Tony grimaced at the fact that Peter was here somewhere. Chatter died down very quickly as everyone noticed the billionaire in the house and stared at him. 

He was about to demand where his kid was when he heard it.

“Penis Parker! Penis Parker! Penis Parker!”

Tony shoved his way through the drunk crowd towards the sound, which led him towards the backyard. He slid the back door open with such force that the glass almost shattered, and the scene before him made absolutely livid. Two boys held Peter’s arms and had him on his knees, meanwhile another one that he presumed was Flash was holding up a beer bong, which was shoved into his mouth. Flash was in the process of pouring a bottle of beer into the funnel while the three of them continued laughing and chanting and Peter wriggled uncomfortably, face scrunched up as beer filled his mouth and ran down his chin and clothes.

“HEY!” Tony thundered, storming toward them.

The two boys holding Peter immediately released him, staring at Tony in complete shock as Flash dropped the beer bong like a hot potato and cowered back, leaving Peter coughing and spluttering on the grass.

“WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?” he roared, grabbing Flash by the front of his shirt. “You think that’s funny?! You think it’s fun to hold someone down and force beer down their throat?! Get out of my sight before I fucking kill all of you!”

The three boys scrambled back inside and Tony turned back to Peter, who was on his hands and knees, still struggling for breath. He immediately crouched down next to him and placed a hand on his back.

“Pete? You alright kiddo?”

Peter opened his mouth, but instead of answering, the kid violently hurled into the grass, trembling slightly and sweating. Some of it hit Tony’s shoes, but he didn’t care at that moment.

“Yeah, kid, get it out of you,” he sighed, trying not to completely freak out.

The kid’s BAC was already at 0.2% before having beer forced into him against his will and he didn’t even know how long they’d been doing that before he got there. Peter threw up a couple more times but after a while it seemed no more was going to come up. 

“That… that _sucked_ ,” he rasped, using the back of his sleeve to wipe his mouth, before letting himself fall onto his back on the grass. 

Now that Tony knew Peter was okay (in the scheme of things), the anger that he had been suppressing ever since Peter first called him found itself bubbling back up. Frankly, seeing him lying on the grass looking way too calm after the anxiety he had caused Tony made him clench his jaw in frustration.

“Peter, what the hell, I told you to stay where you were!” he demanded.

The boy propped himself up on his elbows to look at him with a frown. “I was, bu’ then they all came out and made me drink, and I didn’t _wanna_ but you said _not_ to move.”

Tony breathed in deeply, forcing the anger down once more. He needed to get Peter out of there, he had plenty of time to be mad about this later. “C’mon, Peter, I’m taking you home.”

“Nonono,” Peter quickly shook his head with a pout, not at all offering any assistance as Tony pulled him to his feet and held him up. “May’ll _kill_ me!”

“Yeah, I know, kid,” Tony replied with a roll of his eyes, beginning to walk around the side of the house towards the car. “I meant the tower.”

“Oh.”

“She definitely doesn’t need to see you in this state, Christ. But she will be hearing about this. Maybe just a… slightly watered down version of events.”

Tony helped Peter into the passenger seat and walked around to the driver’s side. He was about to drive off when he noticed Peter hadn’t moved to touch his seatbelt.

“You’re a fucking mess,” he muttered, leaning across to put the kid’s seatbelt on for him.

“That waz’n a lot of fun,” Peter spoke up idly after a moment of silence.

“You don’t say.”

“Well, I mean, it was in the- in the beginning, but then I got a bit… woooo,” he continued, wiggling his fingers and letting out another small snigger.

“What were you _thinking_ , Peter?!” he burst out before he could stop himself. “I’ve told you what alcohol did to me, and I’ve told you that if you _absolutely_ feel the need to drink - though I’d really rather you didn’t - do it i _n moderation!_ Fucking hell, Peter, what part of having a fucking _beer bong_ down your throat is ‘in moderation’?! Are you _trying_ to get alcohol poisoning?!”

“I didn’t mean to,” Peter answered in a small voice. “I was just… I was jus’ gonna have a couple drinks, but then I may’ve had a- a bit more than that and then Flash convinced me to do shots with him and he offered to make me a drink-“

“I’m going to fucking kill that little asshole,” he seethed.

“What? He was- he was being really nice, it was weird-“

“Peter, he was _trying_ to get you drunk, how did you not realise that?”

“So now I’m stupid?” Peter crossed his arms with a huff.

“Yes! You’re very fucking stupid, Peter. I thought you were more-“ he cut himself off at Peter’s glare,remembering what happened last time he talked about responsibility. “I thought you were better than this.”

“Well, I guess I’m not.”

“No, you don’t get to do that! You don’t get to act all clam about this! I _told you_ to stay on the line and you hung up and I called you seven fucking times and you didn’t answer! And then I get there to find you off your face with a fucking beer bong forced into your mouth, practically _choking_ you while those dipshits just fucking laughed-“

“Please stop yelling, Mis’er Stark,” the teenager groaned, holding his head.

Tony almost went off again, but quickly shut his mouth when he remembered Peter’s enhanced senses. “Rate it,” he said quietly.

“Eight,” he mumbled, curling in on himself.

The man paused. “Eight? Is that what you were trying to say on the phone? It’s at an eight?”

Peter nodded. “It… it comes and goes, like a… like a pulse. For a while it’ll be fine… almost too fine… like how it used to be… and suddenly everything’s…” he made a vague gesture with his hand and Tony nodded. “It’s never norm’lly like this… think it’s the alcohol… messes with my senses.”

“Well, now you know,” Tony replied with a sigh, knowing himself that that was a tad too apathetic.

When they finally got to the tower, Peter seemed to have gained slightly better control of himself, but Tony still made sure he had an arm firmly around him as they headed into the elevator. In any other situation, seeing Peter stumbling around and slurring his way through sentences with that dopey smile on his face would have been pretty funny. However, given the situation, it was not funny in the slightest and the petty part of Tony was looking forward to the massive hangover when Peter woke up.

“You need to clean your teeth, I’m not letting you sleep until you have,” he ordered, pushing Peter into the bathroom and throwing his pyjamas in after him. “And get changed. Showering in this state would be a drowning hazard, but you _need_ to get out of those clothes.”

Tony waited on Peter’s bed for him to come out, and was considering checking on him when he staggered out, shirt on inside out and pants on backwards. That would have to do. He guided Peter into bed, pulled the covers over him and was about to stand up when the teenager grabbed his wrist. Yikes, here came the truth bombs.

“I really am sorry, Mis'er Stark,” he whispered, looking close to tears. “I’m sorry for lashing out at you and ’m sorry for saying you’re not my dad - well, you’re _not_ , but the way I said it was mean. I din’t mean it that way, that you can’t act like my dad. 'Cause, to be honest, you kinda are like my dad sometimes.”

Tony stopped breathing for a moment.

“And… and it’s the anniversary of Ben’s death tomorrow - well, technic'lly today, fuck - and… I’m not okay. But I shouldn’t’a taken it out on you and I’m so sorry for saying you don’t care about anyone, tha’s not true at all. You care _so much._ And I _know_ you care about me, I’m sorry for saying you didn’t. I just… I feel really guilty sometimes, ‘cause you make me really happy but I don’t really deserve it 'n it’s just easier to think that you don’t so I don’t have to feel bad 'bout replacing Dad or Ben.”

“Kiddo,” he said softly, brushing a curl from Peter’s face. “You’re allowed to be happy, your dad and Ben would want that for you. And you’re not replacing them, I’m not trying to do that, buddy. I know what they mean to you. And… yeah, I probably act too much like your parent sometimes, but I can work on that.”

Peter’s eyebrows furrowed. “Huh? No, Mis’er Stark, you don’t understand. I didn’t just mean that you _act_ like my dad, I meant you- you kinda _feel_ like my dad sometimes. And it makes me feel really guilty, but then I never really had a dad after Dad died. Ben was a father figure but he was never Dad, he was always Uncle Ben.”

Tony wasn’t exactly sure what the kid was trying to say, it wasn’t really making a whole lot of sense. But he knew what ‘you kinda feel like my dad sometimes’ meant and it sent both panic and a sense of warmth through him. He knew the Peter idolised him and he didn’t like it. But to hear him admit that he saw Tony as a father was a whole other level of responsibility. Yet, however much he would deny it to himself, he _did_ see Peter as a son, and the revelation that Peter perceived their relationship the same way squeezed his frail old heart.

“Alright, Spider-Baby, how about you get some sleep? We’ll talk more in the morning… or afternoon seems more likely at this point.”

“Okay… g’night Mis’er Stark… love you.”

Tony blinked and stared at Peter as he closed his eyes and buried himself deeper in his blankets. He was sure that Peter would struggle to remember most of the night, but he hoped he remembered this:

“Love you too, kiddo.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Might do a part 2 if people are interested?


	6. Elderly Stars Slide Down The Morning Sky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (‘Cause Sleep Is Not My Friend part 2)
> 
> Mister Stark let out a sigh and shook his head, running a hand over his goatee as he looked at Peter with a pained expression. “Why’d you do it, Pete?” 
> 
> His tone was quiet and defeated, the words piercing Peter’s heart.

As Peter gradually came to, the first thing he took note of was how gross he felt. He could smell the lingering scent of beer on him, and parts of his skin felt sticky, most likely from various drinks. Next came the throbbing headache that seemed to grow worse with every moment he spent conscious, and the dryness of his mouth. He opened his gritty eyes, wincing at how the light coming through the window aggravated his headache, and glanced around the room, frowning slightly when he realised he was in the tower. Vague bits and pieces from the previous night came flooding back, but he didn’t currently have the energy to try to piece it all together. 

When he looked over at his nightstand, Peter discovered two things: 1) that it was 1 in the afternoon, and 2) that a glass of water, box of tissues and a couple of pills had been left there. He recognised the pills as the painkillers that Helen Cho and Bruce Banner had worked together to create for people like him with increased metabolisms that rendered usual painkillers useless. He groggily propped himself up and reached a clammy hand toward the glass to take a sip. The cool water against his irritated throat made him close his eyes in content for a moment, before he threw down the pills and slowly sat up properly, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. He let out a steadying breath, waiting for the room to stop moving and for the small bout of nausea to pass.

_“Good morning, Mister Parker,”_ Friday greeted. Her voice was quieter than usual, however still made him wince, due to to his hangover-induced, spider-sense-heightened headache. _“Boss had been alerted that you are awake and requests that you shower and then meet him in the kitchen for breakfast.”_

Peter groaned softly, dreading the conversation they would have. He only vaguely remembered calling Mister Stark at the party… could sort of recall the man shouting furiously at Flash… and then yelling at Peter in the car on the way back. God, Mister Stark surely already hated him after the awful things Peter had said to him on Wednesday, he was surprised he had even come to pick him up. 

But then he caught sight of the bucket on the floor beside the bed, and glanced back at the small care package on his nightstand, knowing it must have all been Mister Stark. Frankly, he couldn’t tell if that was better or worse - he was well aware he didn’t deserve his kind treatment after what he’d done and the fact that the man had still gone to such lengths to try and help him just worsened the guilt.

The teenager spent quite a long time in the shower, stewing in his anxiety, dread, guilt and self-loathing as he pieced together what he could from the night, starting with why he had gone to the party in the first place. He missed Ben so fucking much, and his guilt over his relationship with Tony had made him edgy, frustrated and irritated, and caused him to try to push Tony away. Although, he supposed that was an understatement. Accusing the man of not caring about anyone was inaccurate on so many levels and had hurt him deeply. Peter almost wished he hadn’t looked back when he was storming out, because the look in Mister Stark’s eyes after he said that had torn him apart. So his guilt over getting too close with Tony and betraying Ben was battling with his guilt over pushing him away and hurting him and the whole thing was a big, grief-fuelled clusterfuck that had completely and utterly screwed him over. 

Peter remembered going to the party to take his mind off the shit storm that was raging inside his head. He remembered starting to drink, only to find that it drowned out the overthinking, numbed his stress and guilt, and would drink some more. He remembered being surprised by Flash’s sudden change of attitude, deep-down knowing he had to have some ulterior motive but also needing the alcohol he was offering so deciding to not think too much of it. He kind of remembered looking at his phone and finding himself staring at the text messages Mister Stark had sent him over the last few days and letting the guilt consume him until he could’t anymore and he had to tell Mister Stark the truth. Except… he hadn’t gotten very far before the man had become too preoccupied with his intoxicated state to let him finish. 

He somewhat remembered Flash approaching him not long after he had hung up, asking if he wanted to join the fun game they were playing. He didn’t remember much between that moment and having the beer bong forced in his mouth, but he did dimly remember the moment Mister Stark had burst through the door, convinced he was just imagining it for awhile. He distantly remembered throwing up and Mister Stark’s angry tone on the way home. He could very vaguely remember being escorted to his bed, and had the bad feeling he’d dropped some truth bombs. 

_Love you too, kiddo._

Peter sighed with a shake of his head, dismissing the words that had seemingly come from nowhere. He wasn’t sure if he had dreamt them, or if it was the hopeful side of his subconscious filling in the blanks of his memory with things he wished had happened. Either way, he knew Mister Stark wouldn’t have said that, especially not after having to deal with his very unpleasant behaviour, and the sudden craving for the man’s affection left him feeling even worse about his current predicament. 

After a shower, Peter did feel much better physically, however he did still feel achy, dizzy, weak and insanely thirsty. And, to be honest, the thought of eating anything did not appeal to him at all. Nonetheless, he dragged himself out of his bedroom, only to furrow his eyebrows at how dark and quiet it was. 

“Mister Stark?” he croaked, padding into the dimly lit kitchen. 

The man turned around from his position at the stove top and pressed his lips together. “You need more water,” was all he said, pouring another glass and placing it at the breakfast bar, gesturing for him to sit down. Peter hesitantly sat down, noticing the lack of some kind of nickname, but appreciatively swallowing down the water. 

“Why… why’s it so dark?” 

Mister Stark turned back to the stove to tend to whatever he was cooking - eggs, Peter could smell. “I don’t know how much you _remember_ from last night,” he began, his sharp tone making Peter wince, “but the alcohol was messing with your senses. You kept going in and out of sensory overload. Figured that the hangover would be worse.” 

“Oh,” Peter said softly, biting his lip. “Th-thank you. Really.” 

Mister Stark paused slightly, but didn’t reply. 

The tension in the room was thick and Peter just wanted to go back to bed and sleep forever, but he knew he had to face the consequences of his actions and he knew he deserved whatever Mister Stark was going to throw at him. 

“I-I appreciate you making me breakfast, but I’m n-not really hungry.” 

“I don’t care,” Mister Stark responded bluntly, scraping the scrambled eggs onto a plate and putting it down in front of him. “Eggs help with hangovers. They contain cysteine, which helps break down acetaldehyde, which is the byproduct of alcohol metabolism that causes all… this,” he explained, ending his sentence with a vague gesture at the boy. “Besides, you need to balance your blood sugar levels, especially with your whack metabolism. If it dips, you’ll just feel worse.” 

“You know your hangover cures,” Peter commented weakly, immediately realising that wasn’t a wise thing to say when the man clenched his jaw and gave Peter a meaningful look. 

“Eat.”

Peter nodded and tentatively started eating, but proceeded to consume the meal at an increasing rate as his stomach woke up. The whole time he ate (granted, it wasn’t long) Mister Stark didn’t speak, but did slide a coffee across the bench to him, before leaning against the fridge and watching him with an unreadable expression. The teenager stared down at his empty plate for a few moments, building up the courage to say what he wanted to. 

“I’m really sorry, Mister Stark,” he apologised, unable to look at the man. “I’m so sorry for everything I said on Wednesday, I promise you I didn’t mean it. I-I wasn’t in a good place and I took it out on you, but that wasn’t fair at all and you didn’t deserve that. And I’m not trying to excuse my behaviour, I’m just trying to explain _why_ I was acting like such a jerk, but that doesn’t mean it was at all okay. Saying that you don’t care about anyone is like the stupidest thing I’ve ever said in my life because you care _so_ much and you were literally helping me and I _know_ you care about me, I just didn’t _want_ you to at that point ‘cause I was… a mess.” 

At this point, Peter was verging on tears, and Mister Stark’s expression was conflicted. 

“And- and I’m so sorry for calling you and making you go out in the middle of the night to pick me up and deal with me like that. You shouldn’t have had to do that.” 

Mister Stark’s eyes flashed angrily and he stood up straighter, stepping menacingly towards Peter. “You’re _kidding me_ , right? _That’s_ what you’re apologising for?! For calling me when you needed help, not for making _terrible_ fucking choices that _put you_ in that position and made me legitimately concerned that you would end up with fucking alcohol poisoning?!” 

The yelling was aggravating his headache, but frankly, he didn’t care that his body was shutting down because his idol, his hero, was furious with him and it broke his heart. Peter’s lip trembled and Mister Stark’s face softened briefly.

“Peter, I will _always_ be willing to help you when you need it and the fact that you’re apologising for help you didn’t even ask for and _not_ for drinking yourself into oblivion when we’ve literally talked about safe drinking is _blowing_ my fucking mind.” 

“I’m- I’m _so sorry_ ,” Peter choked helplessly, vision blurring as his eyes burned with tears. “I- I shouldn’t’ve gone to the stupid party and I shouldn’t’ve drunk so much or touched anything Flash gave me and I’m sorry for freaking you out. I know I should’a been more r-responsible.” 

Mister Stark let out a sigh and shook his head, running a hand over his goatee as he looked at Peter with a pained expression. “Why’d you do it, Pete?” 

His tone was quiet and defeated, the words piercing Peter’s heart. 

“I was sick of it all, it was too loud and when I had a few drinks, it was quieter and I didn’t have to deal with it as much so I just… kept going.” 

“What’s ‘it’? What are you talking about?” 

Peter paused and took a breath. “Today is the anniversary of Ben’s death and… the past week I have _not_ been okay, at all. Obviously, I really miss him, but it’s also ‘cause I feel so fucking guilty for- for getting close to you because I feel like I’m- I’m betraying him somehow. At this point I’m pretty sure I’m cursed ‘cause first it was Mom and Dad and then Ben was my- my father figure and then _he_ died and now you’re-“ he cut himself off with a shake of his head, using his sleeves to wipe the tears from his eyes. 

He was having a weird sense of déjà vu and, in a brief moment of panic, he wondered if he had told the man he saw him as a father figure in his drunken haze. 

“You’re my mentor and I can’t help but feel like I’m replacing him. And then after everything I said on Wednesday I felt really guilty about hurting you and pushing you away and it was just this internal war between the two and I didn’t _mean_ to drink so much, but after a few I realised it felt quieter and number and I didn’t have to _feel it a_ nymore.” He was essentially sobbing now and he struggled for breath as warm tears trickled down his red face. “I’m _so_ sick of feeling stuff. And I know it was stupid and wrong, but it was…” 

“Addictive?” Mister Stark suggested quietly.

Peter swallowed and nodded, looking back down in shame with a wet sniffle. “I really am sorry for disappointing you and worrying you.” 

“Peter, I need to make something real clear, okay?” Mister Stark spoke up, concerned eyes piercing into Peter’s. “I am really glad that you called me last night. I know you didn’t actually ask for my help, but I’m still really glad that I knew you needed it. If you hadn’t… fuck knows how much more beer those dipshits would have forced into you and I don’t even want to think about that. And you’re not cursed, kid. You’ve been dealt a real shit hand and you’ve been through so much, but you don’t deserve any of it and it is not your fault at all. I didn’t know Ben, but I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t want you isolating yourself out of guilt, he’d just want you to be happy. You’re not replacing him, you just have another different father figure. You can have more than one.” 

“I- I never said father figure,” Peter pointed out, becoming more anxious. 

“You did last night,” Mister Stark replied in slight amusement. 

“Oh… shit.” 

“You don’t… you don’t have to be ashamed, kiddo, it’s okay. But you get what I’m saying, right? That it’s not your fault and you don’t have to feel guilty about being happy?” 

Peter nodded uncertainly. 

“Say it,” Mister Stark pressed. “Say, ‘It’s not my fault and I’m allowed to be happy’.” 

“It’s not my fault and I’m allowed to be happy,” he repeated, the words feeling strange in his mouth. “It’s not my fault and I’m allowed to be happy,” he said again, that time stronger and with more conviction. 

“Good,” the billionaire smiled slightly. “Now, can you promise me something, bud? Promise me that you’ll try to avoid using alcohol to numb emotional pain in the future? You can’t lean on that. I’ve had so many issues with alcohol and it doesn’t end well. I don’t want that for you, Pete. I don’t want you to end up like me.” 

“I _promise_.”

“If… If this kinda thing happens again or you already think this might be a serious problem we can get you help now I can assure it’s much easier to stop it before it becomes a full-fledged addiction. There are many other ways to feel better that don’t involve killing your organs. Like _talking to people_.” Mister Stark bit the inside of his cheek, suddenly appearing even more vulnerable. “You can talk to me about anything, you know? Even if its really trivial high school drama, if talking about it will make you feel better, just give me a call. Or, better yet, stop by and we can chat in person. Or if you don’t want to talk to me, you can talk to Karen and she won’t snitch unless it’s really serious. I… I really care about you, kid, and I just want the best for you and I’ll do whatever I can to make sure you reach your full potential. You’ve got so much of it, Pete.” 

Peter’s eyes filled with tears again, but this time it wasn’t sadness. He knew Mister Stark cared about him but everything he had just said was so raw and sincere and he felt such a rush of affection for the man that he couldn’t hold himself back anymore. After a fleeting moment of hesitation, he slid off the bar stool and launched himself at the man, wrapping him into a tight hug, which he surprisingly reciprocated immediately. Peter buried his face in Mister Stark’s shoulder, his scent of motor oil, coffee and expensive cologne filling him with a sense of safety and security. 

_I love you. I love you. I love you._

The words wanted to come out, but he was scared that would be a step too far. But then he considered how much emotional baggage he’d let out that morning and he kinda just figured, _fuck it_. 

“Hey, Mister Stark?” 

The man hummed back. 

“There’s… there’s something that I said in my dream - or maybe I just imagined it, I don’t know -that I need to say, but I don’t want you to freak out.” 

Mister Stark pulled away, his hands on Peter’s shoulders as he frowned. “On a scale of one to you dying of alcohol poisoning, _how_ freaked out-“ 

“I love you, Mister Stark,” he blurted out, cutting him off. 

“Oh,” was his response, and Peter felt his heart drop. “That- that wasn’t a dream, Underoos. You said that last night as I was tucking you in.” 

“Oh,” Peter blinked, face heating up. “Wait… so I _didn’t_ imagine you saying it back?” 

“No, you didn’t imagine it,” Mister Stark rolled his eyes. Peter looked at him with an expectant, playful smile and the man let out a resigned sigh. “I love you too, kiddo.”

Peter beamed, warmth spreading through his chest, but his smile faded when a realisation hit him. 

“Thank you for everything, Mister Stark, but I should really go home. I really shouldn’t’ve left May on her own today. I know she tries to act really strong for me, but today just _sucks_ and I don’t want her alone-“ 

“Woah, woah, woah,” Mister Stark interrupted. “Calm down, Pete, it’s alright. Pep’s got that covered. She’s kept her busy all morning with planning for the next Stark Industries charity event. They’ll probably be back soon and then Pep and I can head out while the two of you can do whatever you need to do to grieve properly, whether it’s watching movies or cooking or-“ 

Peter threw his arms around Mister Stark again, throwing him off balance slightly. 

“ _Cuddling_ ,” The billionaire continued teasingly, but the teenager ignored the jab

“Thank you, Mister Stark,” Peter breathed, pulling away, eyes shining with tears. “So much.” 

“Anytime, kiddo.” 

“Um... I have a question, though-“ 

“I gave her a vague, tame recount,” he answered before he could finish his question. “She said you’re off the hook today, but tomorrow you’re telling her everything and if you don’t, I will.” 

Peter nodded and mumbled, “That’s fair.” 

“Kid, you’ve gotta be honest with me here for your sake,” Mister Stark started, expression anxious. “Do you _think_ that this might be a problem in the future?” 

Peter was well aware what Tony was really trying to ask without actually asking it. Was he a budding alcoholic? He was about to adamantly shake his head. He _wasn’t._ The idea of him becoming dependent on alcohol sent _panic_ through him, knowing full well how that kind of addiction would hinder his life. Besides, this was _one time_ and he’d learnt his lesson and he was fine now. He wasn’t planning on doing that any time soon. But then… he hadn’t planned on the previous night either. And, sure, he felt like shit now, but he _had_ felt really good at the time. 

“I… I don’t _think_ so,” Peter began shakily. “But… possibly? I don’t know.” 

“Okay,” Mister Stark said calmly. “Thank you for being honest, Pete. You don’t need to panic though, alright? I’m not trying to freak you out and it’s common to have an experience like this. It doesn’t mean you have a problem, I’m just being cautious. We’ll just see what happens in the future and, as long as you keep being really honest with me about this stuff, we’ll make sure it doesn’t become one.”

Peter, however, was already freaking out. 

“But- but what if it _does_?” he asked, eyes wide, but Mister Stark shook his head firmly, placed his hands on Peter’s shoulders and looked him dead in the eye.

“I won’t let it get you, kiddo. I won’t. I promise you.” 

His words sent a wave of reassurance over Peter, and he nodded jerkily. 

“C’mere,” Mister Stark said, gesturing him forwards and pulling him into a tight embrace. “I’ve got you.” 

“This is the third time we’ve hugged in the last, like, five minutes,” Peter mumbled into his shoulder. 

“The first two were on you,” the man shot back reflexively, before shaking his head slightly and letting out a huff of air. “We’ve been there for a while, bud.”

“In that case, I’ve got catching up to do,” Peter grinned cheekily, surprised the man hadn’t pulled away yet. 

“I was gonna say I take it back, but… this actually isn’t _completely_ terrible,” he admitted, before stepping back and ruffling Peter’s hair. 

At that moment, the elevator opened and Pepper and May walked in, in the middle of a conversation. When May’s eyes landed on Peter, however, she cut herself off and, for a moment, he thought she was about to demand what he had done last night. Instead, she just opened her arms and Peter sprinted over and launched himself at her, almost knocking her over. He heard her sniff and squeezed her even tighter, meanwhile one of her hands threaded through his hair, holding him close. She was warm and smelt like home and it’d only been a day, but it’d been a pretty fucking _awful_ day and he had missed her. 

Over her shoulder, he saw Mister Stark give him a small smile, before taking Pepper’s hand and following her out of the suite. It was then that he realised he had seriously underestimated just how well Mister Stark understood him, and it made him all the more glad that he had finally laid out the truth about what the man meant to him. The prospect of becoming an alcoholic was terrifying to the boy considering how much he wanted to do with his life, but he thought of Mister Stark’s promise to not let it get him and he knew he would be okay in the long run. 

_I won’t let it get you, kiddo. I won’t. I promise you._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this resembles what people wanted lol


	7. Soft To Be Strong

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It didn’t matter how many safety measures he set up, Tony would always be worried about Peter getting hurt as Spider-Man. He had imagined every dangerous scenario he could think of, fretted over the many ways Peter could end up severely injured or dead from patrol. Out of all the risks he faced on a day-to-day basis, he had never considered this, never thought that the fucking flu might be what killed him.

It started with a sore throat, as it always does. On a Wednesday, of all days. Peter didn’t exactly take much notice of it, which he may have done had it not been for the plethora of assignments that currently hung over his head. He just forced down a cup of ginger tea (nasty stuff) and hurried out of the apartment to catch the train to school. 

It wasn’t until he was walking across the football field, a tickle in his throat, that Peter came to the realisation that he hadn’t gotten sick since before the bite. For a while he’d thought that maybe he _couldn’t_ get sick anymore, but he supposed that was out the window now. And when a cough forced its way from his throat, leaving him wincing slightly, all he could think about was the really inconvenient timing. 

Trying to get work done with an irritated throat was one thing, but then the headache snuck up on him, developing into steady, faint throb by fifth period. He hoped desperately that this was going to be it - he couldn’t afford to take time off school right now - but he had a feeling more was coming. 

Sure enough, the following morning, he woke to a faint ache throughout his body and kicked the blankets off himself to cool down a bit, despite the grey skies outside his window. When he staggered out into the kitchen to make himself breakfast, May raised her eyebrows at him. 

“You don’t look so good, baby. You think you’re okay for school?”

Peter nodded his head, trying to make his voice sound as normal as possible, “I’m fine, May. Just a bit of a cold. Besides, I really can’t miss class right now.” 

“Alright,” she pressed her lips together. “But call me if you need anything. If it gets much worse, I might see if I can get out of the trip. It’s last minute, but I’m sure they can fill the spot.” 

“No, no, don’t do that,” Peter hastily shook his head. “Really, May, I’m fine. I can take care of myself. Besides, I know you’re super excited about those seminars.” 

“We’ll see. You’re going to the tower this afternoon, right? Maybe you can ask Tony if he can keep an eye on you.” 

“May!” he whined, ducking away from her hand that reached to feel his forehead. “It’s just a cold! you don’t need to cancel the trip and you _definitely_ don’t need to bring Mister Stark into this. That’s just embarrassing. He’s not my _nanny_.” 

“You’ve got a point,” she agreed thoughtfully, a teasing smile pulling at her lips. “I’ll see about getting you a nanny then.” 

“ _May_.” 

 

 

 

“You’re uncharacteristically quiet,” Happy commented, ten minutes after picking the teenager up from school.

Peter let out a small chuckle, only to wince slightly at the pain in his throat. “I’ve just got a bit of a cold, but I’m fine.” 

The man just gave him an unimpressed look. “Alright, but don’t go spreading that around. That’s the _last_ thing I need right now.” 

“Yeah, you and me both,” he sighed, leaning back. 

When Peter walked into the lab, Mister Stark looked up at him with a smile, only to instantly narrow his eyes. And, look, to be honest, he was beginning to feel a bit offended at this point. Did he really look that bad? Without a word, the man just pulled a small bottle out of the draw beside him and threw it to Peter. Reading the label, he rolled his eyes, but squeezed some of the hand sanitiser into his palm and rubbed his hands together. He offered the bottle back to Mister Stark, but he shook his head. 

“That’s yours now. You look like you’ll need it.” 

“Ouch,” he frowned. “I don’t look _that_ bad, do I?” 

“No, but I know you and I know you always downplay everything so I’m just being cautious. Are you sure you wanna be here, kid? You’ll feel better sooner if you just rest.” 

“Is this you trying to get rid of me?” 

“No, Underoos,” Mister Stark rolled his eyes. “I just don’t want you working yourself to death.” 

“I’m fine, Mister Stark, really,” Peter promised. “Besides, May’s a nurse, remember? I’m in good hands.” 

“Okay, but I’m making you tea. Apparently lemon and ginger is great for colds.” 

Peter groaned, letting his head drop onto his desk. 

About two hours later, when Mister Stark brought him a fresh mug of tea, Peter gripped it tightly, holding it close to him for warmth, web shooters cast aside, forgotten about. The older man gave him a calculating look. 

“Just twenty minutes ago you were taking off your jacket and now your all wrapped up again and practically cuddling that mug?” he asked suspiciously, reaching out a hand to feel Peter’s forehead. He went to dodge it, but something about that took too long to process, and suddenly the back of Mister Stark’s cold hand was pressed against his clammy forehead. “Okay, you’re done. FRI, what’s his temp?” 

_“Peter’s body temperature is currently one hundred point six degrees Fahrenheit.”_

Mister Stark let out a sigh. “Alright, call his aunt, let her know he’s staying the night.” 

Peter’s eyes widened. “What? No! Mister Stark, it’s not that bad, honest. It’s just a cold. I’ve got super-healing, remember? I’ll be fine. Besides, like I said, she’s a nurse, she’ll wanna be able to keep an eye on me. You’re a genius and all, but this is her area, anyway.” 

In his defence, none of that was a lie, per se. Mister Stark didn’t need to know that May was leaving the next day for a three-day seminar interstate. If he did, Peter was sure that he would insist on keeping Peter in the tower, and he really didn’t want the man to have to deal with him with the flu. 

“Fine,” the billionaire conceded. "I’ll have Happy take you home. Then I’ll see about getting the lab thoroughly sanitised. And don’t even think about patrolling for the next few days.” 

A sarcastic ‘yes, _dad’_ teetered on the tip of Peter’s tongue, before he realised what he was about to say and snapped his mouth shut and nodded. “Thanks, Mister Stark. Sorry for… contaminating the place.” 

“Just take care of yourself, alright, Pete? Rest, stay hydrated… all that shit. And if your aunt gets sick of you, you’re welcome to come here.” 

He doubted that would happen, but gave the man a dry smile anyway “Thanks.” 

After dinner, Peter tried to get some work done. He really did. But when May had come in to check on him, only to find him asleep at his desk, clammy forehead sticking to his maths book, she forced him to go to bed, despite his protests. To be fair, he knew that he could barely get anything done in his state, but sitting in front of his work staring blankly at it somehow felt more productive than going to bed to rest. Although a substantial part of him felt too tired to shower, Peter felt quite gross and knew he’d regret it in the morning if he didn’t, so he reluctantly dragged himself into the shower, placing a hand on the tiled wall to hold himself up. He cleaned his teeth for what he estimated was somewhere between 20 and 30 seconds before he decided his teeth could wait but bed could not. 

There were many words Peter could choose from to describe how he felt when he woke up the following morning. However, he decided that the most accurate and comprehensive word was ‘shit’. Though, if swear words weren’t allowed, then ‘deathy’ would suffice. He was pretty sure ‘deathy’ was not actually a word, but if ‘chillax’ is accepted by the Oxford English dictionary then surely it’d make its way in there eventually. 

Despite Peter’s quite rigorous shivers, it felt like his whole body was damp with sweat. His throat felt like someone had shoved sandpaper down it, all his muscles felt achy and weak, and his nose felt stuffy too. He lifted his head up to look at the time, only to find that his skull suddenly seemed very heavy and flopped back down exhaustedly. He desperately wanted some water to soothe his throat, but moving was really tiring and he didn’t want to leave the warmth of his bed. 

Fortunately, it was only a few minutes later that May knocked on his door. He let out some interpretive noise that she apparently understood correctly as a ‘come in’ and stopped suddenly in the doorway when she saw him. 

“I don’t think I have to tell you this,” she began, “but you’re definitely not going to school today.” 

She came back a few seconds later with some ibuprofen, a glass of water with a straw and a thermometer, not even saying a word before, handing him the pills, pushing the straw in front of his lips and then placing the thermometer under his tongue. 

“You’re at one hundred and two point five,” she muttered with a frown, shaking her head slightly. “I’m cancelling the trip, I’m not leaving you like this.” 

“No, no, no,” Peter croaked. “I’m okay, May, I can look after myself. It’s just a slight fever.” 

“It could get worse,” May argued gently, brushing his damp hair back. “I know you _can_ look after yourself, hun, but I don’t _want_ you to. What kind of parent would I be if I left you alone looking like this?” 

Peter forced a playful grin. “Devilishly handsome?” 

“Like shit,” she corrected bluntly, rolling her eyes at him. “It’s not a big deal, Peter,there’ll be other opportunities like this.” 

“I don’t want you to miss out because of me. I’ll be fine, honest. And if it does get worse, I’ll call Mister Stark.” He really hoped it didn’t get worse because he wasn’t planning on living up to that promise at all. “Besides, you’re meant to leave in a few hours, it’d definitely be too late to fill your spot now and it’d just be a waste. I’m not dying or anything, I’m just a bit sick, but I’ll start getting better soon and then you’ll have missed out for no reason.” 

“Having peace of mind that you’re okay will never be a waste, Peter,” May said firmly. 

“I’ll call you, then. I’ll call you every night and you can get updates and tell me what I should be doing and be reassured that I’m okay. How ‘bout that?” 

The woman let out a sigh, looking conflicted. “Fine. But if I see fit, I’m coming back early, alright? And make sure Tony knows what’s going on just in case.”

“Okay,” Peter agreed softly. 

“I love you.” 

“I love you too.” 

 

 

Peter was not doing well late that night. In his defence, he really thought he would be getting better by now. He had thought his healing factor would have kicked in by now and that he wouldn’t have gotten this sick in the first place. Instead, he seemed to be getting progressively worse, his temperature spikes growing more severe, his muscles growing achier, his breath growing shorter and his throat growing more painful. Not to mention the mucus he kept coughing up. His chest had started to hurt from all the coughing, and no amount of water relieved it. When May called him from her hotel room, he had to fight her again to stay, insisting he was fine and could take care of himself and that he sounded worse thane felt (a lie). 

A day later, there was still no change, and Peter had hardly eaten a thing. This was for a number of reasons: 1) despite feeling hungry and knowing he needed to eat, he really didn’t feel like it. He was simultaneously ravenous and disgusted by the idea of eating and it was a very conflicting time. 2) just swallowing his own spit hurt his throat, swallowing fluids irritated it even more, he could only imagine how agonising trying to get anything more substantial than milk down. And 3) he highkey could not be bothered. Partly due to his perpetual weakness and exhaustion, but also because of the steady ache in his muscles that triggered protest whenever he tried to leave his bed. 

So, no, he hadn’t showered since Thursday night, but he was the only one home and given the fact that he wasn’t leaving his bed, his stink would be confined to his bedroom. 

Although he was expecting it, when his phone rang and May’s contact lit up the screen, he panicked a little. 

“Hello,” he practiced to himself, shaking his head when it came out weak and croaky. He tried a couple more times to try and make his voice sound more normal, but to no avail. He just stared blankly at the ringing phone trying to figure out what to do until it stopped ringing, and his panic rose slightly. If he texted to say he was in the shower or in another room when she called, she would just call back again, but if he ignored it, he knew the woman would probably fret and assume he was dying. Mind you, it didn’t feel too far from the truth. 

He needed to respond with something that would reassure her he was okay while also giving an excuse not to call her and not being suspicious as hell about it. 

**_Peter_ **

_Hey May! I’m okay, but my voice is gone right now so I can’t actually talk._

**_May_ **

_I can come back, it’s really not a problem_

**_Peter_ **

_I’m beginning to feel better, my voice is just really weak but I’m okay. There’s no point coming back now._

**_May_ **

_Alright but let me know if you need anything._

Peter really did hate lying to May, but he didn’t want her missing out on the seminars just because he was sick. Just as he was contemplating the effort of getting up to get another glass of water, his phone rang again, this time it was Mister Stark. He _definitely_ didn’t want him to know how sick he was, because he knew the man would feel some kind of obligation to take care of him and he also didn’t want to be seen in this state - he was Spider-Man, after all. So he didn’t have to wait for it to ring out, Peter declined the call and started to write a text to explain why he couldn’t answer. He was just about to send it when a notification for a voicemail popped up. 

_“Kid, what the hell?”_ Mister Stark demanded. _“I just got a call from your aunt asking me to check up on you because apparently you’re very unwell and she’s in fucking_ Michigan _for work, which you_ conveniently _failed to mention when you insisted she’d want to keep an eye on you. And she thinks you’re not being honest and now you fucking decline my call? So help me God, Peter Parker, if you don’t call me back in ten minutes I am flying over there in a suit and you will_ not _like it.”_

Peter cringed, and deleted the text he had been about to send. 

**_Peter_ **

_Sorry Mister Stark, I just didn’t want you to worry or feel like you had to take care of me or anything. I’m okay, but my voice is gone at the moment so that’s why I declined the call. Figured it’d freak you out if you tried to talk to me and just heard wheezing on the other end lol_

**_Mister Stark_ **

_I’m coming over._

**_Peter_ **

_I’m fine, Mister Stark, I’m just resting and stuff. It’s late and I’m about to go to sleep anyway._

**_Mister Stark_ **

_If you want people to take you seriously when you say ‘I’m fine’ maybe you shouldn’t say it so often when you’re definitely not fine._

**_Peter_ **

_¯\\_(_ ツ _)_/¯_

**_Mister Stark_ **

_Stop using that thing to respond to everything. And fine but I’m coming over tomorrow. Call me if you need something before then though._

**_Peter_**

_Yea okay, I’ll cough in morse code if I still can’t talk_

**_Mister Stark_ **

_I’m serious kid_

**_Peter_ **

_So am I_ 😤

**_Mister Stark_ **

_Bless you?_

**_Peter_ **

_Lmao that wasn’t a sneeze Mister Stark, it’s a huff of frustration_

**_Mister Stark_ **

_Whatever._

**_Peter_ **

_Goodnight Mister Stark_

**_Mister Stark_ **

_Night kiddo. Sleep well._

 

 

 

Peter had thought Saturday was bad, but come Sunday morning, he knew he wasn’t okay _._ He had been so confident that he would feel at least a bit better, but instead he woke up with the instinctual feeling that something was wrong. He wasn’t exactly sure why this feeling way only now, considering how he had hardly been in a decent state yesterday, but then his heart rate and breathing were even more erratic than yesterday, and the sharp pain in his chest was certainly knew. 

He wondered vaguely if he had simply coughed so much that his lungs had been dislodged from their usual position. That would make sense. And look, Peter knew that shivering violently while simultaneously sweating was not a great sign, but by now, he had insisted he was fine so many times that now he’d be facing ‘I told you so’s if it turned that he was not, in fact, okay. Though, at this point, that wasn’t so much of a hypothetical as a fact. 

He was not okay, and it was probably time he asked for help, especially considering the fact he hadn’t eaten in over twenty four hours or had a drink on about fourteen, which was very bad news for someone with his metabolism. 

Peter fumbled for his phone, opening Mister Stark’s contact and pressing the call button. 

It rang. And rang. And rang. And rang. 

_“You know who I am and you know what to do.”_

_Beep._

 

 

 

“I just don’t think meetings should be allowed on Sundays - FRI, do not disturb - I mean, who _wants_ to attend meetings on a Sunday? I certainly don’t.” 

Pepper sighed exasperatedly. “As you’ve abundantly clear. Besides, _some_ people have very schedules and don’t have another option.” 

“Hey, I have a busy schedule,” Tony defended as the pair walked towards one of the conference rooms. 

“Take time in the lab out of that.” 

Tony paused. “It’s a bit less busy. But that’s besides the point! My lab time is very important, that’s where I give birth to my brainchildren.” 

“Ugh, please never say that again. And I literally saw you and Peter setting up a blanket fort in there one time.” 

“He’s a kid!” 

“That’s fine, but the problem is _you_ act like a kid too when you’re a grown man.” 

“I mean… I never actually grew a whole lot.” 

“Exhibit A,” Pepper scowled. 

“Anyway, that kid has come down with something and his aunt is away for work so if we could wrap this up quickly so I can make sure he hasn’t sneezed himself unconscious, that would be great.” 

“Come down with what? A cold?” 

“Something like that. He had a bit of a fever when he came over on Thursday, maybe it’s the flu.” 

“Poor thing,” she frowned. 

“When I’m sick you always just tell me to woman up,” Tony grumbled. 

“And yet...Mr Burgess, Miss Doyle, hi,” she greeted as they walked into the room, shooting Tony a pointed look. 

He plastered on a fake smile as he offered his hand and hoped this would be over quickly. 

 

 

 

As it turned out, it was not over quickly. When the two finally left, Tony sighed heavily and slumped back in his seat. 

“I _do_ appreciate you being here,” Pepper acknowledged, giving him a small smile. “I know you hate these, so thank you for not making an excuse not to come. Anyway, I need to finish writing my speech for the benefit, but keep me updated on the kid.” 

“Yeah, of course. I’ll make dinner tonight?” 

Pepper glanced down at her watch and gave him a teasing grin. “It’s nearly noon, Tony, you’d better get started then.” 

Tony rolled his eyes, but pressed a gently kiss to her lips before she left. He frowned when he checked his phone and saw he had a voicemail from Peter, eyebrows furrowing in concern. 

_“Mis-Mister Stark,”_ he rasped, and Tony’s heart seized. _“I dont- I don’t feel well, something’s…_ wrong _. Everything- I can’t-…_ hurts _….”_

God, he sounded miserable and the kid’s sniffled told him he was in tears. The message was from nearly two hours ago. Tony swallowed harshly, already jogging out the door, trying not to panic. 

_Something’s wrong,_ Peter had said, his tone desperate.

“FRIDAY, why wasn’t I alerted?” he demanded.

_“Your current ‘Do Not Disturb’ protocol mutes all calls except those related to Avengers-level threats and emergencies.”_

“From now on, _all_ calls from Peter come through, no matter what.” 

“Yes, Boss. Protocol amended.” 

“Call him,” he ordered, getting into one of his cars. 

Peter picked up on the third ring, his voice croaky, but relieved. _“Mister Stark?”_

“Kid, what’s going on? What’s wrong?” 

_“I’m… I don’t feel so good, Mister Stark. I thought- I thought I’d be better by now but I just keep getting_ worse _and I don’t feel_ right _. Like obviously I feel like- like shit, but it’s like my spider sense is kicking up now and- I can’t explain it, but I’m scared Mister Stark."_

“I’ll be there soon, Pete. I’m on my way, okay?” _I’ll take care of you._ “We’ll take care of this. I’m gonna guess given your current state that you actually weren’t fine yesterday?” 

_“I didn’t wanna bother you,_ ” Peter explained weakly. 

“The only time you bother me is when you hide stuff form me out of fear of being a bother and in doing so, causing me to panic.” 

_“I’m sorry.”_

Tony exhaled deeply, something in his chest uncoiling slightly. “C’mon, bud, we’ve talked about this. You need help, you ask for it, you’ll get it. You need to stop with the keeping everything to yourself because I always find out anyway and it just makes me worry.” 

_“I’m sorry,_ ” he repeated with a sniffle. 

“What have you had to eat and drink today?” There was silence on the other end and Tony clenched his jaw. “You gotta at least drink something, kiddo. You need to stay hydrated.” 

_“Okay.”_

“I’m gonna ask you something and you need to be honest with me. Did you just say you lost your voice last night so you didn’t have to talk to me and inevitably have me realise that you clearly needed help?” 

_“In hindsight, that was really dumb,_ ” Peter admitted with a weak laugh. 

Tony took in a deep, calming breath. “I’m glad you called me when you did. Even if you don’t _need_ help, it’s nice to have it when you’re sick. Just sit tight and I’ll be there soon, alright?” 

While the drive was usually about half an hour, Tony made it in twenty minutes. He would have been calmer if Peter was just sick, but his mention of his spider sense had him on edge. When he arrived at the apartment building, he hurried up to Peter’s floor and knocked on their door.

“Pete? I’m here. Let me in, kid.” 

A few moments and a few indistinguishable sounds later the door opened, revealing Peter standing there, gripping the doorknob tightly and swaying slightly. Tony had thought he’d known what to expect based on the teenager’s voice over the phone, but standing there in front of him, he realised it was even worse than he thought. 

Peter’s face was sunken, flushed and clammy, heavy bags under his eyes. His lips were dry and cracked and his hair stuck to his sweaty face. He blinked slowly, as if trying to process who was standing in front of him, only to wobble slightly and begin to fall. Tony insanely reached out and grabbed him by the shoulder to hold him up, wincing at the heat radiating off his skin. 

“Shit,” he muttered, having to use more of his strength as Peter just continued sinking lower and lower. He immediately fumbled for his phone. “Kid, c’mon, you gotta work with me here - FRI, what’s his temperature?” 

_“Peter’s body temperature is currently one hundred and six point nine degrees Fahrenheit.”_

“Fuck!” 

_“He is in hyperpyrexia and medical attention should be sought urgently. In the meantime, it is recommended you try to lower his body temperature as soon as possible. I suggest you run a cool bath and apply a cool damp washcloth to his forehead.”_

“Okay, okay. Call Bruce!” 

Tony hooked an arm under Peter’s knees and carried him to the bathroom, placing him in the bathstill fully dressed and turning on the tap. The boy immediately protested, jerking in response to the cold water and deliriously trying to climb out. 

“No, no, Pete, you need to stay, we gotta bring your fever down.” 

_“Tony? What’s going on?”_

“Bruce!” Tony cried out in relief. “It’s the kid - he’s really sick, his temperature is through the roof, it’s at a hundred and six point nine. I’m- I’ve got him in the bath right - stay _still,_ kid - in the bath right now but I don’t know what else to do.” 

“First you gotta calm down, you can’t help him if you’re in a panic. Keep him in the bath for now, I’ll get a bed and a team set up ASAP. Get a suit ready so you can bring him straight to the tower on my signal.” 

“Okay,” he breathed, nodding to himself and using his watch to summon suit before grabbing a wash cloth and holding Peter down so he could press it against his forehead. 

“It’s s-s-so c-cold!” the teenager whined, writhing weakly, reaching a wet hand out and gripping the lapel of his suit jacket. 

“It’s not, Underoos, you’re just super hot right now. That’s why I gotta do this.” 

“I really am sorry,” he cried, tears forming in his eyes. “I’m sorry, can I p-please get out?” 

He stared desperately at Tony, a pleading expression on his face. His eyes glistened in agony, his pupils boring into Tony’s and begging him to make it stop. Tony felt a painful tug at his heart, wanting nothing more than to take away his suffering and feeling utterly useless. While he knew , logically, that the cool bath was meant to help reduce his temperature, an instinctual part of him wanted to snatch the boy out of there and wrap him up. That same part of him sent chilling tidal waves of guilt that crashed angrily in his chest at the fact that _he_ was the one who put Peter here, that he was forcing him to stay in the water that was making him so uncomfortable. 

“This isn’t a punishment, Pete, Christ,” he whispered brokenly, finding it progressively harder to watch the boy’s struggle. "I’m only doing this because I have to, okay? The flu can be really dangerous, it can- it can- _shit_. I’m not mad at you, I promise. But you’re really hot and I know it doesn’t feel like but we’ve gotta cool you down. But Bruce is getting ready to treat you and when he’s ready we’ll get out of here, okay?” 

Tony knew there would most likely be further unpleasant methods of reducing Peter’s body temperature, but he didn’t need to know the right now. He began scooping water up in his hands and pouring it gently over Peter’s head and running it through his hair, forcing himself to continue even when he flinched violently and tried to pull away. 

“Peter, _please_ , I need you to stop fighting me.” 

The teenager stared at him through red-rimmed eyes for a moment before reluctantly nodding his head and weakly breathing out, “ _okay”._ He screwed his eyes shut and tensed his body, only shaking slightly when Tony poured another lot of water onto his hair. 

_“Doctor Banner recommends that you depart for the tower now,”_ FRIDAY alerted him. _“He will be ready by the time of your arrival.”_

“Okay, kiddo, we’re done, how about that?” Tony breathed, helping Peter out of the bath. “I’m gonna get in the suit and fly you to the Medbay where Bruce will fix you, alright?” 

Peter nodded weakly as the suit formed around Tony, and let himself be lifted up by his metal-encased arms. Only minutes later, he was stepping out of the suit in the medbay and handing him over to the medical team, who immediately intubated and ventilated him, as well as putting him on a drip. 

He heard words like ‘hypoxia’, ’respiratory distress’ and ‘bronchoscopy’ and wondered how he could have possibly missed the kid’s lungs giving out. He had literally been about to leave to go to the kid’s apartment the previous night, but had decided against it when Peter insisted he was about to go to bed out of concern that he would be overbearing or hovering too much. He should have gone anyway just to check, he should have known Peter would be playing it down. 

It didn’t matter how many safety measures he set up, Tony would always be worried about Peter getting hurt as Spider-Man. He had imagined every dangerous scenario he could think of, fretted over the many ways Peter could end up severely injured or dead from patrol. Out of all the risks he faced on a day-to-day basis, he had never considered _this_ , never thought that the fucking _flu_ might be what killed him. 

“Tony."

The man glanced up as Bruce approached. 

“I think I know what’s going on-“ 

“You ‘ _think’?_ ” Tony snapped, his face crumpling in guilt seconds after the words left his mouth. “Sorry.” 

The doctor just shook his head dismissively. “Most flu-related deaths-“ Tony flinched. “-aren’t caused by the actual influenza virus, rather a secondary infection - usually pneumonia - or an overreaction from the immune system. Usually white blood cells and antibodies are sent out to eliminate the threat and T cells destroy the affected tissue, which is predominantly in the respiratory tract and lungs. However, sometimes the response can be too strong and damage too much tissue, restricting the amount oxygen delivered to the blood, which… given Peter’s accelerated healing-“ 

“So, basically his body is destroying itself,” he interrupted weakly. 

“Essentially,” Bruce nodded. “The bronchoscopy will show the extent of the damage, and if that is the case, then we can put him on ECMO, which basically improves the gas exchange, preventing further hypoxia and organ damage, allowing the lungs to begin to heal. We’ve also got him on antibiotics, ibuprofen and an IV, so once his fever breaks and his body realises it can stop attacking itself, it can work to repair the damage. He’s going to be okay, Tony.” 

Tony let out a breath of relief. “You know, you could’ve started with that.” 

“Maybe,” he agreed with a small smile. “But then you wouldn’t have listened to anything I said and then ask questions and then I’d just have to repeat everything I said.” 

“Sorry, what did you just say? I wasn’t listening.” 

 

 

 

Tony stirred awake from his position beside Peter’s bed when some kind of shuffling noise disturbed his sleep. He blinked slowly, sitting up straighter when he realised the source of the noise was Peter, writing something down on a notepad, restricted slightly by the ventilator. Seeing that the man was awake, Peter tore off the sheet and handed it to him. 

_This is getting repetitive._

A scoff passed through his lips. “Then stop almost dying."

Peter’s small grin faded, a frown forming gnosis face before he started scrawling something down again. 

_I’m sorry for lying to you. That was super dumb._

“Kid, you never have to worry about bothering me, okay? I just want you safe and happy, and this whole ‘lying so that you don’t annoy me’ bullshit needs to stop. I can’t help you if you don’t let me, and when I can’t help you, it stresses me out. And for God’s sake, stop saying ‘I’m fine’ when you’re very not fine.” 

Peter nodded solemnly before beginning to write again _. Did you end up sanitising the lab?_

“Yup. Glad I did too. I’m a total wuss when I’m sick.” 

_Yeah, I bet._

Tony scowled meanwhile Peter grinned, shoulder shaking slightly with laughter. “Don’t test me, Underoos, or I’ll sell your Spider-Man suit on Amazon.”

 

 

 

Four days later, after being gradually tapered off oxygen support until Bruce declared his lungs to be sufficiently healed, Peter was on his feet, back to his usual restless, bubbly nature. Naturally, May had been less than pleased to find out Peter had been struggling so much and refusing to ask for help, and even more so when she realised how severe the situation had been. To Peter’s credit, the kid had taken the scolding in his stride and acknowledged his mistakes, promising to not let anything like it happen again. 

Tony made that same promise to himself. 

Which is why, when Peter sneezed in the lab three weeks later, he _may_ have overreacted. The teenager didn’t seem to think anything of it, but then Tony was shoving a box of tissues and a mug of tea in front of him and his eyes widened. 

“I’m not sick, it was just a sneeze, I’m honestly-“ 

“FRIDAY, give me his body temperature.” 

“Mister Stark!” 

_“Peter’s body temperature is currently at ninety-eight point five degrees Fahrenheit, sir.”_

“See, I’m fine! No fever.” 

Tony stared at him through slightly narrowed eyes. “Maybe I should get Bruce, just in case.” 

“No! I do not need _Bruce Banner_ checking on me for a freaking sneeze!” 

“FRI, call Bruce.” 

Peter let out a helpless whine, letting his head fall onto the desk with a thud. 

“Great, now he’s gotta check for head injury, too.” 

“ _Mister Stark!”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bruh I read so much medical shit for this chapter trying to make it accurate as possible but it’s probably still the biggest load of shit lmao. I legit read a proper medical case report about a women who got super sick from the swine flu (https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC5655466/) to figure out what treatment could actually work even though I could probably just say ‘Tony said “I love you” and Peter’s body magically healed itself’ and ya’ll would soak that shit up. Also I realised it’s lowkey the same as chapter 3, with the whole ‘Tony rushing a dying Peter into the Medbay’ thing but I already had it planned out so oh well.


	8. Built with a Heart Broken from the Start

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “How long have you been stewing over this? Whatever the answer is, it’s too long. Why would you listen to the dipshit, anyway?” 
> 
> “I don’t know, I’ve just been a mess lately. I’m straight up not having a good time right now,” she moaned dramatically. 
> 
> “You have got to stop saying that,” he groaned. 
> 
> Penny was about to retort when she felt it. That all too familiar sensation that sent panic through her body and she stood up abruptly. “Um, I gotta-“ she gave up trying to think of something and just scrambled out the door towards the bathroom, meanwhile Mister Stark just stared after her in bewilderment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just had to do a female Peter Parker, okay? Also when this idea first came into my head, it was just the period thing and then somehow it turned into whatever this is so sorry lmao

Penny stared at the floor of the principal’s office, still trying to calm the rage inside her. When she glanced up at Flash’s bleeding nose, however, she felt slightly better. Although, simultaneously, seeing his stupid face made her angry again. His parents were glaring daggers at her, but she refused to look at then. Principal Morita was quite obviously uncomfortable sitting in the tension in the room, waiting on May to get there. 

However, when the door finally swung open, her heart sank when Mister Stark walked through, looking coolly at Flash. The boy just looked at Penny with raised eyebrows and a slight smirk, and she glared harder at him, knuckles turning white. 

“Her aunt’s stuck at work,” Mister Stark explained to a very stunned Morita, taking a seat beside Penny, who refused to look at him. “What did he do?” 

“I’m sorry, what did our son do?” Flash’s mother demanded, quickly getting over her own shock. “You mean the one bleeding while _that_ brat is perfectly fine?” 

“Well, my intern certainly isn’t a violent person by nature and given what I’ve heard about your precious spawn, I’m very much inclined to believe that he deserved it.” 

“Mister Stark,” Morita hastily cut in, “let’s just find out what actually happened before we make accusations like that.” 

Mister Stark nudged her elbow with his on the armrest, clearly trying to get her to look at him, but she simply moved her hands into her lap looking down at them. 

“Mister Thompson, would you like to share your side of the story?” 

“Uh, yeah, all I said was that she’s not as smart as she thinks she is and then she was breaking my nose.” 

Penny’s head snapped up to glare at him, although with Mister Stark in the room, a part of her was relieved that Flash didn’t tell the truth. And she didn’t want to either. She’d rather deal with the consequences of Flash’s story than have to tell Mister Stark what Flash had really said.

“And Miss Parker?” Morita asked, clearly not believing Flash. 

“That’s… that’s correct, sir. I’m sorry, I was completely out of line and I shouldn’t have hit him and I don’t know what came over me but I promise I’ll never do it again.” 

She could feel Mister Stark’s eyes in the side of her head, but she just stared at Morita, who blinked for a second, clearly not having expected that. 

“Uh, okay, well, Miss Parker, I know you’re a good kid and given your clean record and good grades, you’re only suspended for the rest of the week, including the rest of today.” 

“What? That bitch should be expelled!” Flash’s mother argued furiously. “She broke my son’s nose, she is a violent _menace_ , she is dangerous and she shouldn’t be in this school.” 

“Mrs Thompson, this is a first offence, frankly, that is just not a fitting punishment. If this happens again, I’ll ensure a more severe punishment, however, as I have given Flash plenty, it’s only fair that I give Miss Parker a second chance,” Morita explained and Penny tried not to snigger at the shade. “Miss Parker, you’re free to go.” 

She hastily got to her feet and left the office, hearing Flash’s parents arguing with Morita and Mister Stark’s footsteps behind her. She felt bad for the principal, having to deal with that. 

“Kid, slow down,” Mister Stark ordered from behind her, causing her to sigh and slow to a halt out the front of the school. “Are you going to tell me what _really_ happened?” 

Penny clenched her jaw. “I did.”

“If you mean the bullshit that Flash gave and you agreed with, I’m not buying it. What did he really do?”

“Nothing!” she insisted agitatedly, stalking off towards the car again. “I’m sorry I broke his nose, and I’m sorry that you expect more of me than senseless violence.”

The man slid into the driver’s seat shortly after she slumped into the passenger seat and just stared at her. “I’m not driving until you tell me the truth.”

“Well, we’re going to be sitting here a while then.”

“So you admit that that wasn’t the truth then?”

Penny threw him an irritated look. “He said some stuff that made me mad. End of story.”

“No, _not_ end of story,” Mister Stark shook his head. “What did he say? And why didn’t you tell the principal?”

“Because I don’t want to talk about it!” she snapped. 

“Well, tough, you’re gonna have to. Now what did he say that made you break his nose? I know you, Pen, and I know that he clearly said something really bad for you to do _that_. You could have seriously hurt him, you know.”

“I _do_ know! And I’m sorry that I lost control, I wasn’t thinking and it was stupid and dangerous and I’m relieved I didn’t seriously injure him because I couldn’t live with myself if I did. I… I really didn’t mean to hit him. At least, not _that_ hard.”

“I know that,” Mister Stark said softly. “I know you didn’t mean to, which is why I really need to know what he said, because it clearly must have been bad for you to do that.”

Penny just shook her head and looked out the window to hide the fact that her eyes were shining with tears.

“Penny.”

“No,” she said stubbornly.

“Penny, please, I’m just getting more and more worried here, kiddo. Was it something about May? Or your parents?”

She shook her head again.

“Ben?”

“No.”

“Something about one of your friends?”

“No.”

“Then what is it, Pen? I’m not trying to be nosy, you know that, right? I’m just really worried about you.”

“He was saying shit about you,” she finally admitted resignedly.

“Oh… what kind of shit?” he frowned, clearly unsure as to what the big deal was.

Penny shook her head again.

 

 

• • • 

 

 

While it was annoying, Penny had been able to deal with Flash’s constant accusations that she was lying about the internship. However, when she let it slip to Mister Stark, the man had picked her up from the following decathlon meeting himself, making sure to introduce himself to the one he immediately picked out as Flash. 

_“You must be Flash, I’ve heard a lot about you,” Mister Stark had said, a warning glint in his eye._

Given that the entire decathlon team had witnessed the interaction, Flash could not longer give her shit for lying. Although he initially tried to accuse her as paying the man to pretend to know her, both of them knew she had nowhere near enough money for that. 

And for a while, things were good, and she was actually grateful for Mister Stark’s gesture, even if she had initially been frustrated at his impulsivity. However, Flash then found something much much worse than lying to accuse her of. 

_“Tony Stark wouldn’t just hire some high school intern, a teenage girl, for their brain. I don’t care how smart you think you are, there’s definitely smarter_ older _people that aren’t underage girls out there that he could hire. He clearly has some other…. interest. And you’re pretty tight for money, aren’t you, Parker?”_

_“What are you trying to say, Flash?” she had snarled, irritated at the insinuation._

_“You guys seemed pretty close the other day, picking you up in his fancy car. You can make up stuff about lab work all you want, but don’t think I haven’t noticed that fancy new watch. What did you have to do to get it?”_

_Penny glared at him. “I designed a newer, better version of Spider-Girl’s web shooters, that’s what.”_

_“Oh, yes, your personal friend, Spider-Girl!” he mocked. “This is just getting sad. I mean, c’mon, look at his history with girls. I never thought he’d go_ this _young, but the man is clearly full of surprises. Tell me, is it just him or did you have to get on your knees a few times and work your way up?”_

_Overcome by rage and forgetting her strength, she shoved him into the lockers behind him, expression venomous._

_“Actually, I can see where he’s coming from, this is pretty hot-“_

_Penny pressed her forearm firmly against his throat, cutting him off. “You’re vile and disgusting, and the fact that you would accuse him of anything like that is sickening. I have that internship because I’m smart, Flash, because I work hard. You can try and tear me down all you want but don’t you dare fucking bring him into this!”_

_“You’re getting awfully defensive, Penis,” he wheezed. “Does May know? I’m sure she’d be horrified if she knew what a slut her niece was, but I guess if you’re that desperate for money, maybe she’s encouraging-“_

_CRACK_

 

 

• • • 

 

 

“ _Penny.”_ Mister Stark implored sternly. “What kind of shit?”

“Shit about you and… and me,” she finally sniffled. “About how I’m short of money and- and you wouldn’t hire some teenage girl just for her brain.” He looked confused, so she continued with a sigh, “he was asking what I had to do to get this watch.” 

Mister Stark’s face scrunched up and he stared at her for a moment in disbelief. “Are you _fucking_ kidding me?” 

She shook her and threw her head back against the seat. “He asked me-“ she cut herself off with a groan. 

“He asked you what? What else did that fucker say?” he demanded. 

Penny looked out of the window again, before reluctantly mumbling, “He asked if it was just you or if I had to -quote- ‘ _get on my knees a few times and work my way up’_.” 

Mister Stark let out a growl and flung the car door open again, ready to storm back towards the school, but Penny cried out, grabbing his sleeve, “No, wait! Please don’t, it’ll only make it worse. You should have seen the expression on his face when you walked in.” 

“God, Pen, I’m so sorry,” he apologised desperately. “I had no idea, I thought after all the shit he gave you about lying that making an appearance would stop it, I didn’t think he’d twist it like this.” 

“I know. It’s not your fault,” Penny responded miserably. “I should’ve just ignored him, instead I was defensive and it just egged him on and then I punched him, which was obviously not right-“ 

“No, I take back everything I said before, good on you for punching that shitbag. He deserves it.” 

Penny let out a weak laugh. 

“On the bright side, you’ve got the rest of the day off and it’s still morning. We can do some work in the lab, or we can watch movies… or if you’d prefer I can drop you off at home. Given the circumstances, I won’t be upset if you don’t want to-“ 

“The lab sounds good,” she interrupted. “I need something to focus on, y’know?” 

Mister Stark grinned. “Oh, trust me, I know all about avoiding my feelings by focussing on something else. It’s not really something I’d recommend, though.” 

“I’ll get to them eventually,” Penny defended. “Just not right now. Right now, I’d really like to pull something apart and pretend it’s Flash’s dumb head.” 

“Fair enough,” he smirked. “Hey, if you want, I can print out his picture and pin it to the dartboard.” 

“I like the sound of that.” 

 

 

 

 

 

Despite her best efforts, Penny couldn’t stop replaying the altercation with Flash, in particular, his point about there being smarter people that could intern for Mister Stark that weren’t random high schoolers. Because why _would_ he offer her an internship? Obviously it wasn’t for the reason Flash had come out with, but then her heart sunk slightly as an idea struck her. Was he just keeping her around for Spider-Girl? Was he trying to forge some kind of friendship so that he’d have an extra teammate at his disposal in the event of some kind of crisis? 

“You good, kid?” Mister Stark asked from across the lab, looking at her in mild amusement. “You’ve been staring at that soldering iron for way too long. I know you know how that thing works.” 

Penny bit the inside of her cheek, putting the tool down on the desk. “Why did you give me an internship, Mister Stark?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Well, it’s just- Flash said something about how obviously there are people smarter than me that you could hire instead so I was just wondering - is this all because of Spider-Girl? Or- or because you feel bad for me or something?” 

The man’s face dropped and he stared at her in confusion. “ _What?_ ” 

She wrung her fingers together nervously. “I just- I just don’t get why you picked _me_. I’m just some high schooler, but there are so many other people that work for this company that know more than I do and I can’t think of any other reason except for Spider-Girl.” 

Mister Stark walked over and sat down in front of her pushing the various bits and pieces in front of her out of the way. 

“For such a smart kid, you can be a bit dense sometimes, Underoos,” he shook his head. “Did I meet you because of Spider-Girl? Yes. But everything after that was because of Penny. I can assure you that I don’t do anything I don’t want to and if I didn’t want you in this lab with me then you wouldn’t be here. I offered you an internship because I quickly realised after meeting you that you are insanely smart, and not only that, you’re _good kid._ And you’re so humble and you’re a hard worker and I see so much more potential in you. Yes, there are plenty of people who know more than you, but knowledge does not equal intelligence and I’ve never met anyone who is as bright _and_ kind _and_ overall just a _good_ person. There isn’t a bad bone in your body.” Penny’s cheeks were already pink at the extensive praise, but then he causally added, “I can see you taking over Stark Industries one day” and she blanched.

“Wait, what?! Why?” 

The man scoffed. “Were you listening to a word I just said? I just explained _why_. And how long have you been stewing over this? Whatever the answer is, it’s too long. Why would you listen to the dipshit, anyway?” 

“I don’t know, I’ve just been a mess lately. I’m straight up not having a good time right now,” she moaned dramatically. 

“You have _got_ to stop saying that."

Penny was about to retort when she felt it. That all too familiar sensation that sent panic through her body and she stood up abruptly. “Um, I gotta-“ she gave up trying to think of something and just scrambled out the door towards the bathroom, meanwhile Mister Stark just stared after her in bewilderment. 

_What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck please no no no no-_

She swore under her breath when she finally got to the toilet and checked her underwear. She wasn’t due until tomorrow what the fUCK. Her period _always_ came on a Thursday, it always had, why the hell did it have to come a day early _now?_ And the blood had gone through to her jeans, what if it had gone through onto the stool and she had leaked in Tony Stark’s lab?! 

Penny’s stomach twisted with anxiety and she cradled her head in her hands, having no idea what to do. Of course she had to be wearing her light blue jeans, and her shirt didn’t reach past the stain _and_ she didn’t even have a jumper of anything she could use to cover it. And there were no pads or tampons anywhere in sight in the bathroom. 

She jumped slightly when Mister Stark knocked on the door. “Pen, what’s wrong? Are you sick?” 

“I’m fine,” she replied as casually as she could manage (so not very). “But I really need to go home.” 

“You’re not fine if you need to go home- unless you don’t want to be here, which is fine-“ he added hastily. 

“No, it’s not that,” she interrupted, not wanting him to feel rejected even if she was throwing away her best excuse. “I just- ugh. I’m okay,” she insisted though tears, feeling overwhelmed and emotional. “I just really need to go home right now.” 

Yet, she really didn’t have a plan for going home, because she certainly didn’t want to bleed in the car, but she also could walk or catch the bus because she just leak more and _in public_. She was well and truly stuck. 

“Penny, I can hear you crying. You gotta tell me what’s going on, you’re clearly not fine.” 

“I’m fine!” she wailed. 

“Guessing game it is then,” he sighed. “Is this because of the incident this morning?” 

“No.” 

“Was it something I did? Something I said?” 

“No, definitely not.” 

“Was something making you anxious?” he asked worriedly. 

And look, technically yes, but not in the the way he was implying. “No.” 

“Is it something to do with school? Something else Flash did?” 

“No, I can handle him,” she sniffled 

“Yeah, I know you can,” he agreed fondly. “I gotta say, I’m running out of ideas here, Pen, is it… boy troubles?” he questioned awkwardly. 

Penny gave a small laugh. “ _Mister Starrrrk._ ” 

“Is that a yes?” 

“No, it’s not a yes, I’m not having boy troubles!” 

“Because you can talk to me about that stuff, you know.” He hesitated for a moment. “Pen… you’re like- Look, I really care about you and I’d appreciate it if you could let me in and tell what’s going on so I can help you.” 

“You can’t help me,” she shook her head, despite knowing that there was a pretty easy way he could help her but that would involve sharing what was happening and she did _not want to do that._

“Pen, you know I don’t like being told what I can’t do. You’ve challenged me, now I _gotta_ help.” 

“You _can’t_.” 

“Alright, alright,” he resigned. “Is it something someone else can help you with?” 

Penny bit her lip. 

“What about Pep? Do you want me to get Pep? Would you be comfortable talking to her?” 

She wiped the tears from her face with her sleeve and swallowed the lump in her throat before quietly answering, “yes, please”. 

 

 

 

 

 

Tony tried not to feel hurt as he went to go find Pepper, but it was a little hard not to be. 

 

 

 

 

 

Pepper was an absolute saviour. Within a very short span of time, she’d gotten Penny a change of underwear and pants and a supply of pads and tampons. She offered her painkillers, but, as Penny explained to her, they didn’t do a thing because of her metabolism. 

“These will be good as new in no time,” the woman assured her as she took the plastic bag Penny had given her with the bloodstained clothing. “Now do you really want to go home or do you just feel like you have to? Because you’re more than welcome to stay and we’ve got access to anything you’re craving. If you like I can take you to the bathroom upstairs, the bath is massive - it’s got jets and a TV.” 

“That actually sounds really nice,” Penny sniffled, and Pepper smiled. 

“Perfect. Come with me.” 

 

 

 

 

 

“Where’s Penny? Is she okay?” Tony asked Pepper impatiently as soon as she walked into the kitchen after leaving the teenager to relax in the bath for as long as she wanted. 

“She’s fine,” Pepper nodded with a small smile. “She just had a visitor that she wasn’t expecting until tomorrow and she wasn’t prepared.” 

Tony frowned in confusion for a moment until he caught on and awkwardly nodded, making a quiet noise of realisation. “I should have thought of that.” 

“She’s fine now, she was just really embarrassed.” 

He bit the inside of his cheek with a troubled expression. “I don’t want her to be embarrassed around me. She’s like a- like my- you know.” 

“Well there’s your first problem,” Pepper told him, running her fingers through his hair. “If you can’t even say that she’s like a daughter to you out loud to me when she’s not even here, I can’t imagine that you’ve communicated that very well to her. I know you’re not a very openly affectionate person, Tony, but you also can’t expect her to know how much you really care about her when you’re in denial about it yourself.” 

“I’m not in denial, I just feel uncomfortable about expressing it,” he defended. She gave him a pointed look and he groaned softly, resting his forehead on her shoulder and wrapping his arms around her waist. “She literally asked me before if the only reason I gave her this internship was to keep Spider-Girl around.” 

“Penny idolises you, sweetie. I can guarantee that telling her what she really means to you would not drive her away or anything that your brain tries to tell you. And she quite clearly sees you as a father figure. If you just have an honest conversation with her, it’ll stop that poor girl questioning her standing and stop _you_ getting indignant when she vocalises it.” 

“Okay,” Tony sighed, pulling out of the hug. 

“Also she mentioned to me that painkillers don’t work on her, is there some way of getting around that?” 

“Yeah, I had Bruce develop special analgesics for Cap ages back and they actually work on the kid too. I always keep a supply for when she’d injured herself, but I didn’t think she’d need them so often. She’s never said anything about it,” he frowned. 

“Probably because she’d have to explain _why_ she needs them every month and, in any case, she doesn’t like asking for things. She’d rather suffer than ask for help. Sounds a bit familiar if you ask me.” 

“Yeah, yeah, I get it, no need to keep attacking me too.” 

“I’m just trying to make a point that she looks up to you and you ought to try to model emotionally healthier behaviour,” Pepper reasoned. 

“Alright, alright. And I’ll make sure she has much more regular access to the super-painkillers,” Tony resolved. 

She beamed and gently pulled him back into her arms to give him a soft kiss. 

 

 

 

 

 

When Penny came back downstairs from her bath in track pants and a hoodie, she felt like she was floating. She figured she needed to explain to Mister Stark why she had totally spazzed out because she was pretty sure she had freaked him out and, now that she thought about it, maybe offended him with her blunt dismissive tone. 

She apprehensively walked into the main suite and spotted Mister Stark in the kitchen, poking through the freezer. When he heard her footsteps, he turned around with a soft smile, only for his eyebrows to raise slightly at her jumper, lips pulling into a grin. 

“Nice hoodie.” 

Penny glanced down at herself, having not really paid much attention to it when Pepper had given it to her. She thought something had seemed familiar about the scent of it, and when she saw the letters MIT on the front, she realised in mild panic that it must have been Mister Stark’s. She felt her cheeks grow flushed. 

“Pepper gave it to me - I didn’t realise,” she replied awkwardly. 

“Oh, so _she’s_ Pepper but _I’m_ still Mister Stark?” he huffed dramatically. 

Penny’s lips quirked up and she just shrugged, leaning against the island bench. 

He rolled his eyes before moving around and ruffling her hair, despite her protests. “It suits you, Underoos,” he complimented, laughing slightly when she wrenched his hand away with a scowl. At the praise, however, her expression brightened. “Keep it, I haven’t worn it in years.” 

“Really?” 

“Really,” he rolled his eyes again. “Now come on, I’ve got ice cream and Star Wars set up in the lounge room.” 

So Pepper had totally told him what was going on, but she was actually kind of relieved that she didn’t have to. 

She followed him into the lounge room, curling up on the couch and hugging a cushion to her stomach, gratefully accepting the bowl of ice-cream that Mister Stark gave her before sitting beside her. 

“Pen…” The man began tentatively, “obviously I don’t understand what you’re going through but you can still let me know what’s going on. It’s really not as awkward as you think it is.” 

“You’re just saying that because you’ve had time to get over your awkwardness,” Penny responded in amusement. 

“Only partially,” he admitted. “You remember that I’m in a long term relationship with a female, right? This isn’t new to me.” 

So maybe she hadn’t given him enough credit. 

“Yeah… I guess I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable or anything.” 

“You can talk to me about anything, kiddo. I mean it. You couldn’t make me uncomfortable if you tried. I won’t always understand, but I can promise that I will always try to.” 

With a sly grin, Penny grabbed the remote and held it out to hand to Mister Stark. He looked at her with a flat expression and swung a cushion at her head. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she giggled. “Thank you, though. That really means a lot. And I’m sorry for freaking you out, I was kind of…”  


“Having a crisis?” 

“Yeah, that just about sums it up,” she grinned. 

There was a moment of silence, and Penny could tell from the odd expression on his face that Mister Stark was about to say something, or wanted to but was unsure of himself. 

She was about to tell him to spit it out because he looked constipated when he finally spoke up. 

“Pen, you’re like…. you’re like the daughter I never had,” he confessed, not meeting her eye, and something warm bloomed in her chest. “I don’t want you to be embarrassed around me or think that you’ll make me uncomfortable by talking about personal things, and I should’ve made that clearer. I’m a mess and I don’t communicate with you properly about how much you mean to me and I know you’re not my biological child or anything but you’re still my _kid_ and I need you to know that.” 

Careful to not upend her bowl of ice-cream onto the definitely-outrageously-expensive couch, Penny wrapped her arms around his neck. He hesitantly put his arms around her and awkwardly patted her back, but she didn’t even care. 

“I know you’re emotionally constipated and that was really hard for you to say,” she began, sitting back. “And so I’m just saying this so that you know, but I really love you, Mister Stark. You’re like a weird uncle- I’m kidding, I’m kidding!” she laughed at his indignant expression. “You’re like a father to me and I really appreciate everything you’ve done for me.” 

Mister Stark smiled at her again, this time looking her in the eye, and quietly replied, “I love you too, kiddo.” 

“There’s still time, you know.” 

“Time for what?” 

“You said I’m like the daughter you never had, but there’s still time for that. You and Pepper can give me a little brother or sister.” 

The man shrugged his shoulders, though his eyes told her he was somewhere else now. “We’ll see.” 

“See, normally ‘we’ll see’ means no with any other parent, but with you it almost always means yes. Because if it’s a no, then you say no.” 

“Or maybe ‘we’ll see’ means ‘we’ll see’,” he scoffed. 

“Think of it this way, if you have a kid-“ 

“Another kid,” Mister Stark corrected absent-mindedly. 

“If you have another kid, then I’d have another human being to talk to and take the brunt of my affection and ranting.” 

“Well, in _that case-“_

“Don’t be fucking _rude_ ,” Penny responded, impersonating Kim Kardashian. 

“Language, missy. Or I’ll ground you.” 

“You wouldn’t dare.” 

“I could call your aunt and tell her you said the fuck word.” 

“She doesn’t care when I swear. She was the one I learnt most of them from, I know more Italian swear words than English.” 

“Okay, well I know some Italian too, so don’t think you can get away with swearing in Italian because I’ll know exactly what you’re saying.” 

“I would like to point out that you swear all the time and if you want me to swear less then maybe you should model that behaviour,” Penny pointed out diplomatically. 

“And if you don’t want me to take that ice-cream away from you then maybe you should stop criticising my parenting and eat it.” 

“Hard ass, much?” 

“Alright, that’s it-“ Mister Stark started, reaching for her bowl. She let out a shriek, and dived away from him, quickly shoving as much as she could in her mouth. 

“Okay, that’s just gross. You’re feral.” 

“Excuse me, I’ve seen you put ketchup on mac and cheese!” 

“What do you mean? That’s _normal!”_

"No, it’s _not!_ _DISGUSTANG!_ ” 

“Oh, for-”

 


	9. Way Up, Way Up We Go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maybe he should’ve taken The List a bit more seriously, but it was just Penny and Ned, what was the worst that could happen?
> 
> (Requested by frozenchaos9)

Penny’s eyes flew open and she sat up in her bed, listening worriedly to the rapid heart rate down the hall. She knew that Mister Stark often suffered nightmares on the nights he did actually sleep, but he never admitted it. Despite his constant preaching to her of not facing problems alone and getting help, he never followed his own advice. 

She swung her legs over the side of the bed, prepared to march down the hall and wake Mister Stark up from whatever horror he was experiencing (re-experiencing), only to pause when distressed whimpers met her ears. Penny swallowed and stood up, stopping abruptly as she registered two heartbeats and two voices and- 

Her eyes widened in exponentially-increasing horror, remembering with disgust that Pepper had been due to get back from a conference in Sweden late that night. They weren’t whimpers of pain, they were whimpers of- 

“Oh god,” she breathed, suddenly having no idea what to do with herself. Penny scrambled back into her bed, throwing the covers over her head in an attempt to block out the noise. When that didn’t work, she snatched her headphones from her nightstand, plugged them in her ears, blasted her music and pressed her pillow around her head. 

While the volume of the music prevented her from being able to sleep, it at least blocked out what was going on down the hall. Intermittently, Penny would lower her shield of noise to check if she could relax, only to instantly regret it and bury her head deeper into her pillow, growing crosser and crosser. 

 

 

 

“What’s wrong with you?” Mister Stark asked the next morning when Penny trudged into the kitchen and slumped onto a stool at the counter. 

She couldn’t look him in the eye, so she stared down at the counter. “Didn’t sleep that great.” 

“Nightmares?” the man asked with a worried expression, walking around the counter and sitting beside her. 

“Not in the literal sense, but basically,” she grumbled. 

“What does that even mean? What’s wrong, Pen?” 

Penny let out a heavy sigh, finally looking across at Mister Stark with a tired expression. “Mister Stark, I really appreciate you putting my room near yours because of all the nightmare stuff but sometimes I think you forget that I have super hearing.” 

He frowned in confusion for a fleeting moment with a mug to his lips, however, his eyes suddenly widened and he choked on his coffee. He coughed for a few seconds to clear his throat and looked at her apologetically, cheeks flushed slightly. “Shit, Penny, I’m so sorry, I completely forgot.” 

“Yeah, no shit,” she replied coolly. “You do whatever you wanna do, I don’t want to get in the way of anything, but give a girl a warning, y’know? So I can move a few floors away.” 

“Right.” 

“Like… I know that I encouraged you to have a kid-“

“Yep.”

“-but no one wants to hear their-“ 

“Okay, I get it!” he interrupted loudly. “I really am sorry.” 

“Yeah, whatever,” she rolled her eyes playfully. “Also Ned said he’ll probably be here around two.” 

Mister Stark nodded. “Speaking of which, should I be concerned about having the two of you over for the night? Because both Ned’s mom and May sent me a list of things I’m apparently not supposed to let you do.” 

Penny’s jaw dropped. “For real? What’s on it?” 

“Well,” he began, pulling out his phone to read the text conversation. “It sounds rather important that I don’t let the two of you cook, which - I gotta say - kinda surprises me. We’ve baked together a couple times and there hasn’t been any major issues.” 

“That’s so unfair! That was _one_ time!” she huffed. “We put out the fire super quick and it wasn’t even that big.” 

“I’m sorry, fire?” Mister Stark repeated with raised eyebrows. “That’s not unfair, kiddo, that’s common sense. If you set fire to my kitchen, I wouldn’t let you back in it either.” 

“Can I just say that it wasn’t _my_ fault, okay? On my own I’m fine, and on his own, Ned’s also fine with cooking. But for some reason, when we try and cook together, it’s always a bit of a mess.” 

“I thought you said it was _one time_!” he imitated her with a teasing grin. 

“The fire, yeah,” she defended. “And I said a _bit_ of a mess. They’re just being dramatic.” 

“Sure, kid. You wanna tell me why I’m apparently not meant to let you play Monopoly or Mario Kart?” 

“Again, unfair. We just get a little competitive,” she replied innocently. A little too innocently. “Everyone does!” she added defensively at his doubtful expression. 

“Whatever you say, Underoos,” Mister Stark replied with an amused smile. “I am _very_ curious, though, as to why I’m not meant to let you watch Twilight or Harry Potter.”

“As for Twilight, Ned is team Edward and I can’t vibe with that,” Penny answered severely. “And Harry Potter is… a difference of opinion about stuff.” 

“I don’t even know what the first part of that meant,” he shook his head. “And something tells me a simple ‘difference of opinion’ wouldn’t warrant your aunt telling me not to let you watch it with Ned.” 

“We just argued a little! They’re being dramatic.” 

“Alright. I gotta ask though - what are the usual sleeping arrangements when you guys have sleepovers? Because obviously you’ve been friends for ages, but… y’know… he’s a boy, so…” he trailed off awkwardly. “May didn’t specify but I didn’t wanna ask in case that was a dumb question.” 

“We sleep in the same room, if that’s what you mean,” she responded, trying to hide her amusement at the direction the conversation was taking. 

“I don’t need to be worried about… anything, do I? You guys are definitely just friends?” 

Penny let out an exasperated sigh. “Mister Stark, Ned’s like a brother to me. And you really don’t need to worry about… _that_. I thought you knew by now, but I guess not - I’m into girls. I have a crush on MJ. I’m gay. Big homo. A good ol’ lesbian. ” 

_Shut up_ , she thought to herself, cutting off her nervous ramble. 

Mister Stark stared at her for a moment, and while she knew the man wasn’t homophobic at all, she couldn’t help but hold her breath slightly. “Huh. Well, that’s a relief. Boys are stupid. Not to say that I won’t hunt down any girl that breaks your heart, but boys are particularly obtuse - generally speaking.” 

She grinned. “Yeah, tell me about it.” 

 

 

 

“Can you please take me to the lobby?” Penny asked FRIDAY as she stepped into the evaluator after receiving a frantic text from Ned saying that he was at the tower and didn’t know what to do. When she got down to the lobby, she could see Ned was basically vibrating with excitement.

“Dude!” Ned squeaked, rushing over to her. “This is gonna be amazing.” 

Penny couldn’t help but grin in response as the elevator doors closed and they began rising. “Yeah, it is.” 

When the pair stepped out of the elevator, Mister Stark was waiting for them in the kitchen. He gave them a smile and a small wave. 

“Hey, Ned. I’m Tony,” he introduced, standing up to shake the boy’s hand. 

Ned stared at him for a moment, mouth open slightly, before glancing at Penny, who grinned in amusement but jerked her head in the man’s direction prompting Ned to quickly shake his hand. “H-hi, Mister Stark. I’m- I’m Ned. But you already knew that. I’m just gonna shut up.” 

Mister Stark just gave small laugh. “Can I get you kids anything? Milkshakes? Tacos? A day trip to the Bahamas?” 

“Mister _Stark_ ,” Penny groaned exasperatedly in response to the tease. “Stop showing off, we don’t want a day trip to the Bahamas.” 

“Speak for yourself,” Ned mumbled. 

“Alright,” the man grinned. “I’ll be down in the lab, just sing out if you need anything. And let me know what you want for dinner when you figure it out. You’re not allowed to cook anything though. FRIDAY will alert me if you enter the kitchen, so don’t even try. Bye!” 

Ned turned to Penny with wide eyes. “How does he know about that? Did you tell him?” 

“No!” she defended. “Well, yes. Only because your mom and May sent him a list of things to not let us do, which included cooking and he asked why, so I told him.” 

“Oh my god.” 

“Yeah, it’s super embarrassing. Anyway what do you wanna do first? I was thinking we could set up a pillow fort because there’s so much to work with in this place, y’know? And we can build lego, watch some movies, it’ll be great.” 

 

 

 

Tony had been routinely checking on the kids while also trying to give them their space and not get in the way of their fun. A couple hours after dinner, however, he walked into the lounge room to see Penny and Ned sitting on the couch watching Harry Potter and the… he didn’t know which one. He didn’t really care. 

“Um, hold up, I’m pretty sure I told you that Harry Potter was on The List, what are you think you’re doing?” he asked, causing the two teens to turn around and look at him like deer caught in headlights. 

“You know,” Penny started in a thoughtful tone, “I’ve heard that question a lot, ‘what do you think you’re doing?’, but I’ve come to realise that when people ask that, what they really mean is ‘stop’.” 

“Excellent observation, Pen. So why is the movie still playing?” 

“Because it’s great! It’s The Deathly Hallows Part Two, it’s the final chapter, Mister Stark, the end of an era, the conclusion of a seven year-long story-“

“Okay, fine, whatever,” Tony rolled his eyes and sat down beside Penny. “Just don’t make me regret this.” 

 

 

 

“This is so sad,” Ned murmured as they watched Harry collecting Snape’s tears. 

“Meh,” Penny shrugged, taking a sip of her drink. 

“I know you don’t like him very much, but you gotta admit he’s a hero.” 

“He’s not and I really don’t.” 

Tony glanced over at them with raised eyebrows, before shaking his head slightly and getting to his feet. “Whatever, I’m going to go shower. Just drop the whole Snape thing, okay?” 

“Fine,” Penny and Ned muttered reluctantly, not looking at each other.

Maybe he should’ve taken The List a bit more seriously, but it was just Penny and Ned, what was the worst that could happen?

 

 

 

“ _Sir, there is a commotion in the lounge room that I suggest requires your intervention.”_

Tony, who had just had his shower and put on his pajamas, let out a heavy sigh and made his way back to the lounge room. He wasn’t sure exactly what to expect, but he sure as hell hadn’t been expecting to see Penny in a headlock while she pulled at Ned’s hair, both yelling at each other. 

“Admit he’s a hero!” The boy demanded. 

“HE’S AN EMOTIONALLY MANIPULATIVE ASSHAT!” she shouted back, before pulling out some of his hair. 

Ned yelped and tightened his hold around Penny’s neck, causing her face to darken. 

“Hey!” Tony yelled, but neither of them acknowledged he was even there. 

“HE WAS PROTECTING HARRY!” 

“HE BULLIED THE STUDENTS!” 

“HEY!” he tried again.

“HE WAS KEEPING UP APPEARANCES!” 

“No one is _that_ fucking cruel for the sake of keeping up appearances!” Penny argued hotly. 

Tony just turned and walked out, hurrying back to he and Pepper’s bedroom, where she was reading a book. When he burst in, she looked at him in amusement, having heard FRIDAY’s earlier announcement. 

“I need your help,” he pouted. “They won’t listen to me. Everyone listens to you.” 

“Everyone but you,” she teased, putting the book down and pecking him quickly on the lips. 

He followed her back to the lounge room, jaw dropping when just the sight of the woman caused he two teens to spring apart, Penny coughing slightly and rubbing her throat while Ned rubbed his scalp and winced. 

“Sorry, Miss Potts,” they apologised unison.

“Are you kidding me?!” 

Penny grinned at him - _the little shit_ \- and he scoffed and crossed his arms. At least Ned had the decency to look legitimately embarrassed about the ordeal. 

“It’s fine, let’s just avoid this kind of thing in the future, okay?” Pepper assured them. “Primarily, by actually obeying The List.” She looked over at Tony as she said that, and he gave an innocent shrug. This was so not his fault. 

“Don’t you think ‘a difference of opinion’ was understating things a bit?” Tony asked Penny. 

“I wouldn’t say that, our opinions on a particular character are different,” she shrugged. 

“Yeah, I get that part, but don’t you think it might have been a good idea to share the fact that this ‘difference of opinion’ makes you two try to kill each other?” 

“But then you wouldn’t have let us watch it?” 

Tony just ran his hands over his face. “This’ll teach me not to listen to May Parker.” 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know if this is what you wanted but it's what came out so I hope you like it haha


	10. Long Way To Happy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fuck, fuck, fuck. He had heard. There was no doubt about it - Peter knew. His kid knew what had happened to him and he didn’t fucking want that. God, how the hell had this happened? He didn’t anyone to know, least of all Peter. The boy just stared at him with a devastated expression, and suddenly Tony was grabbing the bin beside him and hurling violently into it.
> 
> (Set about a year after the events of chapter 1)
> 
> tw - mentions of rape/non-con, nothing graphic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Double update because I feel bad about how long the previous chapter took. I've actually had this one written since like, 6 chapters ago but I wasn't really happy with it but I think this is the best I'm going to get it for now so here you go while I work on the next few requests. Also ya girl has now graduated high school yay

“Kid, shouldn’t you be going now? It’s nearly eleven. Wouldn’t want to make scary girl mad again, would you?” 

“Huh?” Peter glanced down at his watch. “Oh, shit, yeah, I better run.” 

Tony watched in amusement as Peter quickly shoved his things into his backpack in a rush to get to decathlon practice. He thought practices during the summer holidays seemed a little unfair, but he did admire the work ethic of the team captain and Peter’s friend (and crush), MJ. He had only briefly met the girl a few times on the rare occasion he would pick the kid up from school, but from the limited interaction and all that Peter had said about her, he got the impression that she was the powerful, silent-but-deadly type. 

He was well aware that she was not impressed by Peter’s punctuality, or rather, lack thereof and Tony would really prefer to not be the cause of another ass-whooping by losing track of time in the lab _again_. They had Pepper and May for that. 

Speaking of-

“Hi, Pepper, bye Pepper! Bye Tony!” Peter called as he hurried past the woman, out of the lab. 

Pepper glanced back at the boy in slight amusement, before turning to Tony. 

“Decathlon practice,” he answered her unspoken question. “Doesn’t wanna piss off that scary girl he’s pining after.” 

“Ah,” she nodded. “Sorry to interrupt, honey, but you’ve got another one after child support on hold,” she grimaced, gesturing to the phone in her hand. “I know they’re all hoaxes, but technically I have to-“ 

“Yeah, yeah,” he sighed tiredly. “What’s her name?”

They hadn’t had one of these in a long time and he was hoping they were over but apparently not. They all ended the same way- with a negative DNA test, a pissed off woman and a bunch of annoyed lawyers. It was just a waste of his time, and he was tempted to throw money at whoever was on the line just so that he could get on with his life. 

“Casey Baldock.” 

“Alright, FRI, put her through.” 

“Do you want me to go?” Pepper offered, but Tony shook his head. 

“Stark speaking.” 

“ _Hey, Tony,_ ” a sultry voice purred on the other end and Tony’s eyes rolled up inside his head in irritation. “ _It’s been awhile.”_

“Yeah, look, I’m kind of busy right now so how about we skip the waste of time and money and go straight to the point where you admit we never met and this is just a hoax where you use your kid to get some extra money?” 

_“Oh, I wish I could,”_ Casey sighed dramatically. _“But I’m afraid I’m telling the truth. I’ve known since I first became pregnant back in two thousand and seven - the dates just didn’t match up with anyone else.”_

“Well, I’d truly be thrilled to know why you haven’t come forward before now,” he replied flatly, shaking his head at the profile in front of him, not recognising the woman at all. 

_“Because I wanted to do it on my own. I wanted to prove to myself and others that I didn’t need you. But, unfortunately, I just got made redundant and frankly, I don’t have any other choice.”_

“Pretty sure there’s benefits you can claim for that. No need to file a frivolous lawsuit.” 

_“It’s not a frivolous lawsuit if it’s true, Tony, and I have evidence.”_

“Uh-huh, I’d love to see this ‘evidence’ you have.” 

_“I believe you can if you check your email.”_

Tony and Pepper shared a confused look, before he opened up his emails and quickly scanned through his many unread emails until he came across one from an unfamiliar address. He had no idea how she had gotten a hold of his email address when it was meant to be private and made a mental note to see if the woman had any contacts within Stark Industries that may have shared it, because that was definitely breaking their employee contract and would promptly be fired. 

There were a number of images attached to the email, along with a video file, all of which were timestamped the 8th of April, 2007. They were fairly grainy, but it was pretty clear that it was him in them and certainly no confusion as to what was taking place, with the naked woman on top of him. He didn’t bother opening the video - the thumbnail made it abundantly clear what it was. He pulled a face and Pepper let out a quiet noise of disgust from beside him.

Suddenly, Tony wasn’t so sure this _was_ a hoax, and a wave of nausea washed over him. 

_“I’m assuming that the ringing silence means you’ve seen it,_ ” Casey piped up after a moment. _“I can send you my bank details if you want to transfer, otherwise I’ll take cash or cheque.”_

“Hold the fuck up, all this proves is that we slept together on that day, it doesn’t prove I’m your kid’s biological father.” 

_“Ah, right. I’m getting ahead of myself, aren’t I? I’ll organise a DNA test-“_

“Nope, I think I’ll do that, thank you very much,” he interrupted irritably. 

_“Whatever. Just let me know what I need to do.”_

“You know, I have absolutely no memory of you.” 

He wasn’t exactly sure why he said that - he didn’t remember most of the women he slept with during his playboy days. Perhaps it was his brain’s last-minute attempt at reasoning why none of this could be true. Gary from Tennessee can’t have been the only person trying to copy his appearance - maybe the person in the photos was just a look-alike?

_“Well, of course, you don’t. I made sure of that,_ ” Casey replied nonchalantly. 

It was like a bucket of ice-cold water had been dumped on his head. 

“What the hell is _that_ supposed to mean?” 

_“Well, you weren’t entirely conscious when it happened, though I gotta say, the drugs were quite a bit stronger than I thought. That can be our little secret, though,”_ she giggled. _“My lawyers will be in touch.”_

There was a deafening silence after she hung up, in which Tony felt like his throat was closing over.It came flooding back, sucking him into a dark vortex. He’d woken up plenty of times without knowing where he was or how he got there, but one time in particular had always stood out. He hadn’t been able to explain it at the time, he had woken up with no recollection of the previous night, but it was different somehow. Something had felt plain _wrong_ and he’d had this vague feeling of fear as if he’d woken up from a nightmare, even though he couldn’t remember what he’d dreamt. Then there were the marks on his body. He’d assumed it was a black-out-drunk and one-night stand combo. It didn’t even cross his mind that it might not have been consensual, because that just didn’t happen to him. It _didn’t_. 

He swallowed, put on a falsely calm expression and turned to Pepper. “Honey, would you be able to organise a DNA test? It’ll be negative but at least it’ll shut her up.” 

“Tony…” 

“Sorry you had to see those photos too, a heads up definitely would have been nice,” he apologised, turning back to tinker at the engine in front of him.

“ _Tony_ ,” Pepper tried again, getting more and more unnerved by the man’s forced calmness. She was well aware of his unhealthy coping mechanisms but this was something else, and the longer he tried to deny it, the more damage it would do. 

“Oh, and remind me to call May about next weekend when she gets home from work, because she’s probably antsy about leaving Peter on his own in the apartment but I’m more than happy for him to stay here - if that’s alright with you, of course-“ 

“FRIDAY, do you have that phone call recorded for evidence?” Pepper asked, giving up on trying to get through to the man. This, however, seemed to break him out of his little bubble. 

“Huh? Evidence for what? That she’s a grade-A bitch? Pretty sure that’s not against the law… even if it should be.” 

“Maybe not, but rape _is_ ,” she said softly, pressing her lips together when the wrench in his hand clattered onto the bench and he just stared blankly ahead, still facing away from her. “Tony, if what she’s saying is true… about you not being conscious… that was rape.” 

The wave of nausea rose again, and he violently shook his head. “No, that’s not- its not-“ 

_“Miss Potts is correct,”_ FRIDAY chipped in gently. _“Being unconscious means you are unable to consent to any sexual activities, therefore-“_

“I know how consent works, FRIDAY!” Tony snapped, grabbing the wrench and throwing it angrily across the room. “That’s not what this is. This isn’t- I wasn’t-“ 

“You can’t use denial to avoid this, Tony, it’s not healthy,” Pepper insisted, sounding on the verge of tears. “She… she drugged and _raped_ you, you realise that, right?” 

“Will you _stop_ saying that _fucking_ wor-” 

Tony snarled, turning around, only to freeze when he caught sight of a figure in the doorway. His eyes widened and his blood ran chillingly cold when he made eye contact with one Peter Parker, looking absolutely _horrified,_ eyes darting between him and Pepper. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck. He had _heard_. There was no doubt about it - Peter _knew_. His kid _knew_ what had happened to him and he didn’t fucking _want_ that. God, how the hell had this happened? He didn’t _anyone_ to know, least of all Peter. The boy just stared at him with a devastated expression, and suddenly Tony was grabbing the bin beside him and hurling violently into it. 

 

 

 

Pepper was only confused for a second, until she glanced over at Peter and her eyes widened. She immediately hurried over to him, placed a hand on his shoulder and tried to guide him out of the lab. 

“Peter, honey, I don’t know what you’ve heard, but it’s probably best if you leave. It’s not what it sounds like, we just need to have a little chat and-“ 

“You said he was- he was-” Peter interrupted, voice wobbling. “I don’t mean to be rude but what part of ‘she raped you’ isn’t what it sounds like?” 

Pepper looked at him with a pained expression, clearly at a loss of what to say. Peter’s heart physically ached, and he loved the woman and knew she was only trying to help, but she didn’t realise he was one of the few people best equipped to deal with this. 

“Look, Peter, I really think it’d be best if you just came back another time-“ she cut herself off when Tony threw up into the bin again, now sitting on the floor, shaking and hyperventilating. 

Peter couldn’t just watch it anymore. 

“With all due respect, Pepper… No.” With that, Peter ducked around her and scrambled over to crouch in front of him. 

“Tony?” he spoke up softly. “You gotta breathe, sir, _please_.” 

“K-kid, you gotta- decathlon- get outta here- ‘m fine-“ 

“I don’t care about decathlon, you gotta breathe with me, follow my breaths, okay?” he pleaded., grabbing the man’s hand “C’mon we’ve done this before, but usually I’m the one freakin’ out. You’re in the lab, okay? It’s just you, me and Pepper - no one else. How ‘bout we count down from a hundred together, okay? One-hundred… ninety-nine…” 

Tony grabbed onto Peter’s wrist and as he followed along, gradually his breaths grew longer, deeper and slower, although his eyes were still frantic. 

“You’re okay,” Peter said softly, no longer counting down. “Lowkey smell like vomit, but you’re okay.” 

The man’s lips quirked up slightly in a weak laugh, before running a hand through his hair and tugging at it anxiously. 

“I’m gonna be real honest here, Tony,” Peter began, watching him worriedly. “I would advise against pulling on your hair because… you’re getting older, you know, and soon your hair line is going to start receding and it doesn’t need any encouragement.” 

The statement made Tony pause and stare at him in surprise. Peter took the opportunity to scoot closer and lean against the bench beside him. Now that he had been shocked out of his thoughts, he knew now he could actually get through to him. 

“I know it’s really scary and really messed up, but you’ll be okay,” he assured him. “Nothing I say right now will change what happened, but what I _can_ do is be here for you. As well as Miss Potts and Rhodey and Happy. May really cares about you too, you know. She acts like you’re a pain, but she really loves you.” 

It was significantly more distressing than Peter let on to see his life-long hero, mentor and father-figure so broken and distraught. He wanted nothing more than to pull the man into a massive hug because he knew - to a degree - how it felt. It was less than a year ago that the whole thing with Connor happened that made Peter wake up in a sweat after dreaming about Skip Westcott and reveal everything that had happened to Tony. It destroyed him that one of the most important people in his life had experienced that same violation, disgust and horror that he had to, and he wanted nothing more than to take it all away from he man who had saved his life in a multitude of ways. 

“You’re really not alone with this. It’s a, uh, a pretty shitty thing for us to have in common, but I’m always here for you, like you’ve been for me.” 

Tony didn’t reply, merely wrapped his arms around Peter’s torso and held him closer. A hand went up to his head and began carding through his hair, and Peter was satisfied to hear his heart rate slowly decrease.

“What were you doing back here? I thought you’d left,” he mumbled. 

“I left my earphones behind,” Peter answered. “I was considering just getting them next time I was here, but I’m glad I didn’t.” 

“I’m not,” Tony shook his head, pulling himself away from Peter. “I don’t want you to see me like this.” 

Peter tried not to feel hurt. “Well, it’s a bit late for that.” 

“You can go now, Peter, I’m fine.” 

“No, you’re _really_ not,” he responded gravely. “But that’s what I’m here for.” 

“ _Go_.” 

“I _want_ to stay, Tony-” 

“Well, _I_ don’t want you to!” the man burst out venomously. “I want you to _go away_! I don’t _want_ you here!” 

Peter’s eyes burned with tears and he clenched his jaw, but didn’t move. “Well, you’re just going to have to deal with it, because I’m not leaving. I don’t care if you don’t want me here, you can scream and push me away all you like, but it’s not going to work. There’s a difference between wanting to be alone and wanting to hide when you feel vulnerable, but we’ve been through so much shit together and I know you hate feeling vulnerable in front of other people but you’re gonna have to suck it up for now because being left alone is not what you really need or want right now, even if you think it is.” 

Tony glared at him, although with not nearly as much anger as Peter suspected he intended. “Don’t fucking _do_ that. You don’t _know_ me.”

“I know you better than you think I do,” Peter argued firmly. “I’ve been in your shoes, Tony, and yeah, people deal with things differently, but I’m very familiar with your shitty self-destructive coping mechanisms and you’re not getting away with that. Not today. I’m going to make sure you actually process this and deal with it rather than just bury it with everything else and ignore it. That never ends well.”

Tony’s anger seemed to melt away as his shoulders slumped defeatedly. “Why are you doing this?” 

“Because I care about you, Tony, and I don’t want this to control your life like it did mine. Now, are you going to give up fighting me or are you going to grow up and let me help you?” 

The man pulled a face at Peter. “I miss the days you were too starstruck to boss me around.” 

The boy let out a small laugh, before cutting himself off and pointing at him with a serious look. “Stop deflecting, that won’t work on me.” 

“It almost did,” Tony grumbled, causing Peter to roll his eyes. 

“How about I get a heap of ice-cream delivered and we can watch whatever you want and get fat together.” 

“I don’t think you could get fat if you tried, Spiderling,” Tony laughed. “But, yeah… that sounds great.” 

“Okay! Let me get the pamphlet for that ice cream place we like and we can write down what we want and ask Happy to pick it up for us.” 

“Hey, Underoos?” Tony said as Peter stood up. 

“Yeah?” 

“Thank you… not many people can do that.” 

“You mean calm you down? I learnt form the best,” he replied dryly, referring to the many times Tony had to guide him out of a pain attack. 

“I know you’re trying to be funny, kid, but I really hate how similar we are in terms of traumatic experiences.” 

“I know. But… it’s not so bad if it means I can help others.” 

Peter wasn’t sure when Pepper had left, having been too focussed on Tony, but when he went upstairs to the kitchen, he could hear her angry voice echoing from another room.

“…literally have a recorded confession from you, so if you think you can get away with that with theincompetent lawyers you paid for with your redundancy package over the best lawyers in the country _and_ evidence just because of his reputation, you are severely mistaken. You sexually assaulted someone and you _will_ be punished accordingly - our lawyers will chew you and and spit you back out again, and if you don’t drop this obviously fraudulent lawsuit we can make it _so_ much worse for you.” 

Peter was pretty confused about the situation, not really sure how a redundancy package was relevant or what lawsuit she was talking about. Mere seconds later, the woman came storming around the corner, phone in hand, and she stopped abruptly when she saw him standing awkwardly in the kitchen. She immediately straightened her posture and dabbed at her teary eyes, forcing a false smile on her face. 

“Hey, Peter… how… how is he?” 

“Uh, better,” he answered. “Are- are you alright?” 

Her lip wobbled. “I don’t know what to do. You’re… you’re really good with him and I feel so useless.” 

“That’s- that’s not necessarily a bad thing, Pepper,” he grimaced. “I, um… I sorta know what he’s going through. When I was eight, I had this friend in high school. He turned out to not be very nice.” 

He didn’t give details, but Pepper didn’t need them. She blinked at him and just looked even more distressed. “God, sweetie, I had no idea.” 

“Please don’t cry, if you start crying, I’ll start crying,” Peter laughed shakily. “I just… I wanted you to know so you’d understand why I basically shoved you out the way before, which I’m really sorry for, by the way.” 

“You didn’t shove me, honey, you barely even touched me,” she sniffled. “I love him so much, but we’ve lived such different lives and I don’t understand most of his struggles and it makes it really hard to help him, but that’s all I want to be able to do.” 

“I don’t know the full story, but I do know that you just tore whoever was on the phone a new one, so just because you might not know what to say doesn’t mean you’re not helping him,” Peter pointed out. 

The next second, the teenager was pulled into a firm hug, which he happily reciprocated. 

 

 

 

That afternoon, Pepper was meeting with their lawyers about suing the woman for defamation, as it turned out she had been posting things about Tony Stark owing her child support on her blog, and media had caught wind of it. Pepper had already gotten her to publicly apologise and admit it was all a lie, although the fact that the kid had actually been born eleven months after the date on her ‘evidence’ was a _tad_ suspicious, in any case. She was confident they could get her in prison for what she had done, but Tony had flat out refused. Peter had overheard him insisting that it would just drag him and the company through the mud, and would rather they just leave it. 

Peter wasn’t sure how to feel about that. He would’ve much preferred for the woman to burn in hell, and a part of him thought it would be inspiring to others if someone like Tony Stark came forward with his story, but then again, he didn’t know what it was like to always be in the spotlight and constantly be scrutinised by the media. Maybe one day, Tony would tell his story, but that wasn’t today. After all, he’d only found out himself that day and he needed time to process. Besides, it truly wasn’t anyone else’s business if the man didn’t want it to be. 

“Do you wanna… talk about it?” Peter asked hesitantly as the two sat on the couch watching Emperor’s New Groove, still waiting for Pepper to return. 

Tony didn’t even look at him. “Nope.” 

“Are- Are you sure? ‘Cause often it actually feels better to-“ 

“You don’t get it, Peter,” the man cut him off harshly, standing up and beginning to pace. “You’re the kid, I’m the adult. You’re not meant to deal with my shit and I’m sorry for the way I was acting before, that was… pathetic.” 

“What do you mean?” Peter frowned in hurt. “Do you honestly think it’s pathetic to have a panic attack because of sexual abuse? Because I distinctly remember you telling me I wasn’t, so were you lying then? Do you think _I’m_ pathetic?” 

Tony stopped in his tracks and turned to Peter with a frustrated expression. “ _God,_ no. Pete, that’s different-“ 

“How? _How_ is that different?” 

“Because he was bigger than you and stronger than you! You were eight years old, he was clearly at an advantage! I was a grown man-” 

“And she wasn’t after she drugged you? Tony, even if you _hadn’t_ been drugged, you said it yourself, fear makes you do really weird shit and sometimes you can’t do anything, no matter how old or strong you are. It doesn’t matter you’re a grown man, you were literally unconscious and had zero control. You’re not _weak_ and it’s infuriating that you think that. And… I get it if you don’t wanna talk to me about it, but you gotta talk to _someone_.” 

“There’s nothing _to_ talk about, Pete,” the man responded defeatedly. “I don’t remember anything! I just woke up confused as fuck thinking I’d had a really wild night and then ten years later I find out what really happened, but I still don’t recall any of it.” 

“That might not necessarily be a bad thing,” Peter replied softly, the faint sensation of hands on his body trailing over him. 

“I’m really sorry,” Tony shook his head, sitting back down. “I’ve been a real asshole today.” 

“I’m pretty sure you get to be for a while when shit like this happens,” Peter smiled weakly. 

“Thank you for dealing with me, for helping me.” 

“Of course,” he replied, because he really couldn’t imagine doing anything else. 

“I don’t know what I’d do without you, kiddo,” he sighed, laying an arm across the back of the couch behind Peter. 

“Well… you’d probably be calmer and less stressed. But you’d also forget to eat and sleep, so I’m really not sure.” 

“You just roasted yourself _and_ me. Nobody won, there. Although all of it was true so I’m not sure what that says about us.” 

“We need each other,” the teenager shrugged, leaning into the man’s side and resting his head on his shoulder. Mister Stark placed a hand in the teenager’s hair and began playing with his curls. 

“That we do, Pete. That we do.” 

 


End file.
